Then Came You
by bana05
Summary: Prom is when Mercedes and Sam first notice something between them, but it really all starts with a conciliatory Tupperware full of cookies…
1. Beautiful Glow

**It's...been a while, so...hey! *waves* I'm pretty much copy/pasting this series from my Tumblr/LJ, so nothing new has been added for those following the story there, except for the title, which I finally figured out! Be proud! It comes from the song "Then Came You" as recorded by Dionne Warwicke and Spinners. It just took oh...almost a month and a half of me working on this fic (which had only intended to be one one-shot, "Beautiful Glow", but I've been writing long enough to know you don't-_can't_-resist the muse). So, new readers welcome and old readers welcome back! I hope you enjoy this series of one-shots and please forgive any lingering errors! It's already AU (since this will continue beyond _Glee_ season 2) and _Glee_ and none of these characters, unfortunately, belong to me. Otherwise, Mercedes Jones would have a harem!**

- bana05

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><p>The illuminated light at the front door served as a beacon directing the car to pull up to the curb at Mercedes' house. Mercedes sighed but smiled at an exuberant Rachel and a slightly smug Jesse wishing her a goodnight.<p>

"You had fun, right?" Rachel asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

She looked at her three companions for the night, doing her darnedest not to linger on the blond one of the group. "I did, thank you."

"Me, too, even though Jesse and Finn started a fight over me," Rachel said with muted bite, arching an eyebrow at the car's driver.

"He had it coming," Jesse said with absent apology. "He had his own girl but couldn't take his eyes off of mine."

"I'm not your girl, Jesse," Rachel reminded him, "not anymore."

"Perhaps not officially…"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at her lap and gathered her things. "Well, on that note, I'm going inside. Thanks again—"

"Wait!"

The deep voice caused three heads to snap up in time to see a blond and black blur leave the car. Rachel and Mercedes looked at each other askance before Mercedes' passenger door opened revealing Sam and his quirky smile.

"I'm walking you to the door," he declared.

"You don't have to—"

"Yeah, I do," Sam said, presenting his hand to her. "It's what any proper Southern gentleman would do, after all."

She paused, her mind rewinding to that moment during prom when he'd called her beautiful and had asked her to dance. She'd frozen for a split second, just long enough for a tender warmth to take root in her belly, disbelieving he was saying the very things she'd wanted to hear in her deepest heart of hearts. Even as she'd told the words to Rachel earlier that week, she'd wanted to curse herself for her vulnerability. She _didn't_ need a man, and she'd always stand by that; but some days…it would be nice to be wanted for just a little while.

For just one night.

Even if a mutual friend had whispered the request in Sam's ear on her behalf, no doubt.

As before, Mercedes gifted him with a tiny smile and accepted his hand. As before, it felt sincere and solid around hers, and Mercedes prayed her palms wouldn't sweat too badly. She'd never thought about Sam as a boy on his own; he'd been just another one of the guys in glee club who was part of the relationship carousel she'd often observed with haughty amusement along with Tina and Kurt. However, he'd always secretly impressed her with the strict, ethical code he'd followed for himself. That was why she'd been so snide with him the other day right before he'd told the club about his family situation; she'd felt almost betrayed when it seemed he could be just as messy as Puck and Finn.

"I should apologize for that," Mercedes said just as they'd reached her door.

"For…?" Sam prodded, frowning. "From where I'm standing, there's not an apology to be had from you this night. I mean it when I say it was an honor to take you and Rachel…maybe not so much Jesse, but I think he'll be okay!"

Mercedes giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand. "No!" She waved away the word and squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. "For not trusting you to be a true friend, especially to Kurt. I got caught up in all the rumors and I've yet to learn better. I'm sorry for being mean; and the fact you decided to take me to prom with Rachel despite it shows you're a really cool guy, Sam Evans."

Sam's blush was stark against the porch light and she squeezed the hand she hadn't realized she'd still been holding. "And thanks for walking me to the door. In the week Puck and I 'dated', it took him the last night to actually do so!"

"You dated Puck?" Sam asked, clearly surprised.

Mercedes was glad her blush couldn't be visible and she rolled her eyes self-derisively. "Yeah, if you can believe it, but we had an understanding. I'd been a Cheerio then and he'd wanted to be popular; and it's not as if guys are beating down my door to—"

She immediately clamped her mouth shut, surprised by the sudden tightness in her throat and the pricks in her eyes. She looked down to give herself a moment and rebuild her sassy-girl armor, but a gentle finger lifted her chin.

"That's because guys don't think they're fit enough to walk to your door, let alone beat it down to get a chance with you."

Mercedes scoffed at that, even if it were sweet of him to say. "Kurt doesn't have that problem."

"Kurt is a bit more self-confident than many guys…and he's your best friend; he knows he's in."

She arched an eyebrow. "You didn't."

"But that's because I have you with me."

She blinked, suddenly unable to recall how to make speech. That warmth in her belly spread throughout her and she ducked her head to hide the stupid grin trying to form on her face. "You really are sweet, Sam. I don't know what Quinn and Santana were thinking to let you get away!"

Sam laughed self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm a dork, as you know."

"Yes, I did, but we _all_ are because we're in the glee club!"

"You're not a dork, you're a diva," Sam corrected with a grin, squeezing her hand. "Dorks don't sing like you do."

"And don't you forget it!" Mercedes sassed, and they laughed together again.

Sam settled into a small, silent smile that had Mercedes quelling the urge to fidget. She looked around him to the car, not the least bit surprised to see Rachel's face pressed against the glass, enraptured by them just…standing there talking.

"I suppose I should go in; don't want to keep them any longer," Mercedes said.

"All right," Sam said with a nod and squeezed her hand once more before dropping it. "Have a good night, Mercedes."

"Goodnight," she said, "Sam?"

He'd only taken a few steps and immediately stopped to regard her again. "Yes?"

"Thank you for…" she took a deep breath… "for giving me my Cinderella moment. Even though I know Rachel told you about it, it still means a lot to me that you did it."

That lopsided grin she was starting to really like appeared once more. "She did, but that was only because she wondered why I was telling_ her_ you were beautiful instead of you yourself." He began walking backwards for a few steps, his grin growing wider, before he gave her a little wave and turned to walk forward to the car.

Mercedes remained on her front steps long after the taillights had disappeared, unmindful of the chill because Sam's words made her glow.


	2. Secret Makes It Better

**Title:** Secret Makes It Better  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee Club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> It all started with a Tupperware full of cookies…  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Because these were intended to be a series of one-shots, each "part" has its own summary and rating. The entire series is M, but there are parts that aren't so adult in nature. As always, please forgive errors and enjoy!

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><p>Mercedes wasn't quite sure how it happened or when—only that it was after the whole business about his family's situation came out—but she was suddenly "hanging out" with Sam Evans…and his siblings. It was completely her doing, a one afternoon hankering for chocolate chip cookies and the realization that her eyes had been too big for her stomach to handle the thirty-six she'd baked. Even after setting aside half left too many for just her and her parents, so, on a whim and a wholly unexpected case of nerves, she'd gotten in her car and driven to American Family Motel, only for those nerves to turn to goo when Sam opened the door with a gleefully squeeing Stacy riding on his back and Stevie squeezing between his siblings in the door to wave hello.<p>

They'd made her feel most welcome, though Mercedes had known the cookies with her grandmother's secret recipe had been the perfect way to break the ice, and Thursday Night Cookies had suddenly been established. She'd discovered there was more to the blond jock than brawn; that in fact, he was really a huge dork and sharp despite his dyslexia, and his siblings were just as adorable as they'd been when Sam had brought them to glee club. Once, Quinn had stopped by, immediately perking up when she smelled Mercedes' cookies, and Mercedes was surprised and curiously relieved at the easiness between the former couple.

"He's a good guy," Quinn had said a little wistfully as they'd left the motel together that night. "I didn't appreciate him nearly enough."

"Nobody's perfect," Mercedes had said in return, nostalgic over their own former easiness with each other. "Some people are better off as just friends." What Mercedes didn't say was she thought Quinn_ just_ needed friends for a while, even though she was currently dating Finn. Again.

"Maybe you're right," Quinn had said thoughtfully. "Sam's the first ex I could say that about, actually."

"Exactly! I should know; I have the corner market on 'just friends'!" Mercedes had joked self-deprecatingly.

Quinn had arched her eyebrow and given her a tiny grin. "No, you have the corner market on 'fierce diva', and only a man who can appreciate that will do for you. I admire that about you, Mercedes; don't ever lose that."

Mercedes didn't think she would have a problem doing so; if she could break it off with Puck, who was arguably the hottest guy at the school, because he wasn't treating her right, keeping things copacetic with Sam would be a breeze.

And then prom happened, and the breeze became a gale-force wind of difficulty.

There were a myriad of reasons why she shouldn't give her tender feelings for the blond any serious consideration, chief among them was Sam probably didn't even need or want a girlfriend at the moment. Relationships were volatile, especially in the beginning, and Sam required stability somewhere in his life right now. Secondly, just because someone was nice to her and said she looked beautiful didn't mean he liked her _that way_. She learned that the hard way from Kurt, as desperate as she'd been just to have _someone_ like her. That was the first and last time she'd ever settle for something, and at least she'd come out of that dark period with a tried and true friend. Puck had been different, and it'd been almost as if she'd been training him on how to be a better person _period_, let alone boyfriend. But then again, without her guidance, no way could he have pulled the formidably awesome Lauren Zises, and she considered him a friend as well. Sam was like neither Kurt nor Puck, and she knew she didn't need to go through all that angst to realize Sam could be a good friend, either. Thirdly, and maybe even shallowly, she just couldn't see Sam following up Quinn, then Santana, with _her_. She'd never been popular outside of her brief Cheerios stint; and as sexy as she knew she was, she also wasn't ignorant to how her sexy wasn't nearly as appreciated at the school—hell, _society_—as it should be. Sam, despite his dorky tendencies, was still popular, and popular people tended to protect that status like dogs with bones.

But if he would just stop being so sweet to his siblings, or stop picking up where Puck had left off in teaching her how to play the guitar, or doing those silly, yet ridiculously good impressions he liked to do that would have her and his siblings rolling and crying with laughter, or would stop sending her lopsided grins whenever she cornrowed Stacy's hair or cheered whenever Stevie threw a perfect spiral…

After their final glee club before going to Nationals, Mercedes pulled him to the side as asked if she could come that afternoon with the cookies since they would be traveling Thursday.

"You never have to ask to come over, Mercedes," he said with his heart-melting lopsided grin.

"Oh," she said dumbly, balling up her fists to keep from brushing the fringe from his eyes.

"And maybe we can figure out some lyrics to the songs we've _still _yet to write—thank goodness our band is on point; or else we'd be really screwed!" Sam added.

She breathed out a sigh of relief, glad at least one of them remembered to play the platonic game. "With all the rhyming games Stacy and Stevie like to play, I'm sure we can figure out something!"

He suddenly stepped closer to her and touched her shoulder, his entire expression growing warm. "I really, really want to let you know how awesome you've been these past few weeks. All of you, really, but especially you. If my parents didn't have to work the night shift at UPS, they'd love to meet this 'Mercedes' my siblings keep raving about…and those cookies!"

Mercedes had never been happier her skin was too dark to visibly blush. "Have they had some yet?"

"I finally started hiding a few so they could get some; they appreciate it. Mama says it reminds her of home."

"Grandma was from Arkansas," Mercedes revealed. "Near Memphis, actually."

Sam's green eyes lit up. "Really? That's awesome! I knew I recognized some Southern Sass in you, lady!"

Mercedes put her hand on her hip and tossed her head. "And you know this!"

His smile softened again. "And the more I know, the more I like." He let out a self-conscious chuckle and smoothed a hand down the back of his head. "And on that note, I'm gonna go. See you later, Mercedes!"

So for the first time in weeks, Mercedes was once again nervous going to Sam's motel, especially when Sam just opened the door and stared at her for a moment before giving her a quiet hello and letting her inside, taking the cookies from her so she could accept Stacy's exuberant hug. Stevie was throwing things haphazardly in a duffel bag, making Sam groan and roll his eyes.

"It's spring! I don't need Dad's parka!" he told his little brother.

"But it's _New York_! It's cold, isn't it, Mercedes?" Stevie implored.

She somehow managed to swallow her laugh even though Stacy had no qualms giggling into her neck. "I think his jacket will be fine. It gets warm in New York City."

"Does it? I want to go! Can I go with y'all?" Stevie asked, rushing up to his brother and tugging on his hand.

"I'm sorry, buddy, but we have a limited number of tickets."

"I can hide in the suitcase!" Stevie suggested.

"Yeah! I wanna go too!" Stacy said, squeezing Mercedes' neck and bouncing.

"Unfortunately, none of our families can go with us, although we wish they could! Maybe next year, our 'Night of Neglect' fundraiser will actually make us some money, and then we can afford for everyone's families to go," Mercedes offered, brushing flyaway hair from the little girl's face.

"Cool. Cookie time!" Stacy announced with Stevie's full support, and they attacked the Tupperware container with gusto.

The mood remained light for the remainder of her visit, Mercedes helping Stevie and Stacy pack Sam's things while Sam strummed on his guitar to write down lyrics. At some point, Sam played a phrase that reminded her of an Etta James song, so she began to sing. And because it's _Etta James_, she had to sing it properly…which meant, with feeling. Not very hard to do considering the gale-force winds had turned into a hurricane since that afternoon, but she kept her attention on Stacy and Stevie, doing her level best to ignore the strength of Sam's eyes on her. Only when she finished singing did she dare look at Sam, and his green eyes were filled with such intensity that she stumbled back from it. No one said a word.

"Well, yeah, ah—" Mercedes eventually stuttered and coughed. "I can't help but get carried away. Only time I seem to get solos is when I'm literally alone!"

"You're not alone," Sam said, "but you are amazing." He stood and slipped his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and arched an eyebrow. "I think your day-of-the-week song is much better than mine."

"_I_ think I'm offended you even tried to compare 'Friday' with 'Sunday Kind of Love'!" Mercedes returned with an arched brow of her own.

"Both song and singer are far superior with the latter."

"You have a wonderful voice, Sam," she said, then regarded the young ones who were watching them with avid curiosity. "Don't you think your brother can sing?"

"Yes!" Stacy said, launching herself into Sam's arms. He laughed and spun her around.

"I think y'all should sing together!" Stevie said.

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Stacy agreed. "Sing!"

Mercedes suddenly looked at her watch and winced. It was later than she thought and _she_ still had packing to do. "I have to go…"

"Please?" the siblings chorused, and Stevie had the nerve to pout.

"For me?" Sam implored. "I'm not getting them to sleep if they don't get this."

"What on earth would we sing?" she asked.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then arched an eyebrow at her. "What about 'You Got a Friend' by Carole King?"

She smiled, impressed by the suggestion. "Perfect."

Sam fiddled with his guitar until he figured out the progressions, and they sang while she helped get his siblings settled for bed. By the time the song was over, they were huddled together and giving drowsy claps. Both Mercedes and Sam bowed.

"Okay, hugs! I'll see you guys next week—hopefully with a big ol' Nationals trophy!" Mercedes said, giving Stacy and Stevie generous goodbyes.

This time, Sam walked Mercedes completely out the motel room and grasped her fingers as soon as the door shut behind him. He stared at her for a beat, then bent and gave her a slow, soft kiss to the cheek.

"Thank you for being my friend, Mercedes," he whispered in her ear, squeezing her fingers before pulling away.

"We're more than friends, Sam; in glee club, we're family," she somehow managed to reply, her mind looping the kiss over and over. It felt nothing like a platonic kiss even if the location of it were.

"I don't consider you my sister, though," he said, his lips quirking.

"Cousin, then," she tried to joke, but he shook his head again.

"No family worth its salt is anything without friendship," Sam said, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. "So we'll stick with friend…for now…"

Sam's words stuck with her throughout the entire New York trip. On the flight up, Kurt commandeered the seat next to her where he proceeded to talk about Blaine and Broadway (heavy on the Blaine) for most of the way while Sam sat with Quinn two rows ahead of them. In fact, she and Sam were rarely together until the club snuck out of the hotel to gain songwriting inspiration from the city.

"I want to go to Harlem," Mercedes announced to no one in particular.

"Get in touch with 'your people'?" Santana asked with a smirk.

"Yours, too, _Spanish_ Harlem," Mercedes shot back with a smirk of her own.

Santana shrugged. "I'm down, Weezy."

"Why do you call people ridiculous nicknames?" Sam asked on a groan.

"Seriously, Trouty Mouth was the best one yet," Santana said and beamed mockingly.

"Then I guess that makes yours Fake-Ass Bitch—" Lauren began gleefully, only for Puck to pull her away with a roll of his eyes.

"All right!" Mercedes exclaimed, trying to get folks back on track. "Enough, I'm going to Harlem. Santana, c'mon—"

"I'm going too," Sam said.

Santana sucked her teeth and crossed her arms at her chest. "I'm not going if he's going."

"Fine. Mercedes and I can go alone."

"Enjoy sticking out like a sore thumb!" Santana told him.

"Guys, I don't think you should! Harlem is far away and _dangerous_—" Rachel began.

"The _entire city_ can be _dangerous_," Kurt pointed out. "And yet here we are, all alone…"

"We'll go," Mike said, slapping Sam's hand while Tina linked arms with Mercedes. "And then we can go to Chinatown."

"I thought that was in San Francisco," Artie said.

"Every major city has a Chinatown, and you don't have to be Chinese to live there, either!" Tina informed them.

"But, it helps to be," Mike added.

"Guys, we really shouldn't. We still have the songs to write," Finn reminded them.

"But after we win, we should totally go," Brittany added, and Artie high-fived her.

Mercedes was a little deflated until she caught Sam's eye and he winked at her. Quinn came and linked her arm through Mercedes' free one, and they all thought of lyrics they could use for their songs on the way back to the hotel.

Rehearsals in the hotel room were long and many moments tense, especially when solos were divvied up. It was at this point Mercedes excused herself to get some air, sitting a ways down from the room against the wall. There was no need trying to vie for one—Finn and Rachel were shoe-ins for the duet and other voices fit the group number better than hers. And it wasn't about her; it was about the club. She'd just take this moment to sulk a bit then buck up for the next grueling hours of rehearsal.

The door to the hotel room opened, but Mercedes didn't lift her head from the wall or open her eyes. She still didn't when she felt fingers thread with hers, but her heart rate certainly kicked up a notch. Her companion said nothing, so she remained quiet as well; but with the comfort being provided, words weren't necessary. She silently counted to sixty twice on the easy rhythm of the thumb stroking hers before opening her eyes with a smile.

Sam smiled in return and kissed her knuckles before standing and bringing her to her feet so they could rejoin rehearsal.

The next day was the on-site rehearsals in the competition hall and more hotel rehearsals until, finally, competition day arrived. Because of their expertise, Mercedes and Kurt bustled about trying to make sure everyone's costume was in order. They flipped a coin to see who would handle which room and Mercedes "lost", meaning she had to deal with the boys. She made Finn sit on the bed so she could fix his shirt's collar because he was too blasted tall and Puck kept trying to rock a loose tie and shirttails to add to the group's "sex appeal".

"I don't think Lauren would appreciate you 'sharing the wealth' like that," she said on a snort.

"You're one to talk, sexy mama," he replied with a wink. "Think about it—between you and me, we're a one-two punch!"

"Keep runnin' your mouth and I'll show you a 'punch'," Mercedes warned, but she did give Puck a fist bump of encouragement.

Mike and Artie passed inspection but Sam said his vest had a loose button.

"Damn, we'll be a second, guys," she predicted, rifling through her fanny pack full of needles, threads, and safety pins—thank goodness for Kurt and his penchant for being prepared. "Tell Mr. Schue I've got to fix it—won't take but a moment.

"Will do, 'Cedes," Artie said, and the door closed behind him and Mike.

"Thank goodness the thread is black or—"

Sam pulled both of her hands from the bag and placed them on his chest while he rested his forehead against hers. Mercedes had to remind herself to breathe, for his touch made her lightheaded enough. He linked his fingers with hers and sighed, making her do the same.

"No matter what happens today, it will be perfect, because I am sharing the stage with you," he said softly.

"Boy, you better not make me cry! I don't have time to reapply my makeup!" Mercedes warned, widening her eyes prevent tears as she stared at the flawless buttons on his vest.

"You're perfect, Mercedes. Absolutely perfect."

Unable to help herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. He returned the embrace enthusiastically. There was so much more that needed to be said; but she would use this giddy feeling she had to perform the hell out of their songs during competition.

"Let's go win ourselves a Nationals title," Mercedes said, pulling with a smile.

"Let's," Same said, gallantly offering his arm and she graciously accepting it.

Nothing happened the way Mercedes had foreseen it, however. Not Rachel and Finn kissing during the duet; not the wonderful hug Sam gave her after the club's performance; not _not_ placing in the top ten; not even Santana cussing Rachel out the way she did when they made it to their hotel. She also didn't foresee Sam pulling her aside amid all the drama so she could be there when he broke the sad news to his family about New Directions not winning the competition.

"I just need you with me," he said, they somehow finding a private corner in the hotel lounge where they could talk in peace.

It'd felt seamless, natural, when he'd linked their fingers together as he waited for the phone to pick up. The server came by to ask for their drinks and Mercedes ordered water while Sam spoke to his parents.

"Is Mercedes there?" she heard Stacy ask on the phone.

Sam chuckled and bumped her shoulder with his arm. "Yeah…" He pulled the phone away from his mouth and muffled it on his shoulder. "You don't have to say anything."

"I don't mind," Mercedes replied, and took the cell phone. "Hi, sweetie…"

Sam remained close so he could hear, probably to run interference in case his siblings said something embarrassing, but Stevie and Stacy were giving her pep talks of how the glee club would win next year. She'd managed not to cry all evening, but their encouraging words made tears fill her eyes and slip down her cheeks.

"Thank you, guys," she whispered thickly. "You're so good to me."

Sam took the phone then to give her a moment to compose herself and ended the call. Now that she was full of embarrassment, she tried laughing it away as she wiped her tears.

"C'mere," Sam said quietly, pulling her fully into his arms in a comforting, protective embrace.

"Divas don't cry," Mercedes said on a sniffle.

"Exceptions to every rule, Mercedes," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I love your siblings, Sam," she said, unthinkingly. "They're too adorable for words."

"I want you to meet my parents when we get back," Sam said. "I want to meet yours."

"Of course!" Mercedes agreed, now calm; but when she tried to sit up, Sam's arms tightened slightly around her. Just as well, since she had little inclination to be let go. "Mine want to meet you as well; want to know why there's always no sugar or flour in the house!"

"Ah, two ingredients to the secret cookie recipe!" Sam teased.

Mercedes laughed and Sam loosened his hold on her. The intense stare returned, and Mercedes fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. "So much for the 'perfect day', huh?"

"Well, as far as perfect days go, this one _was_ a little bizarre," Sam admitted. "But you're here with me now; there's nothing not perfect about that."

Mercedes suddenly put the shakers down and slid out of the booth. "I—taking a walk. Let them know, okay?"

"If you think I'm letting you go alone—Mercedes!" he called after her even as he followed her out of the hotel.

It'd suddenly become too constricting inside, or maybe that was her throat. As soon as she made it outside, a firm, yet tender hand grasped her wrist.

"Mercedes—"

"Please don't say things like that to me," Mercedes implored, angry and humiliated the tears were starting back up again. "I'm not one of those girls who needs a man to pad my ego when things don't go my way. I can do bad all by myself!"

He pulled her a few steps away from the entrance to a relatively clean yet narrow alleyway and framed her face in his large hands. "How about doing some good with me, then?"

Despite the thrill that raced through her at those words, she rolled her eyes and almost stomped her foot in frustration. He wasn't _listening_ to her! "Sam—!"

His lips were as soft as they looked, moist. And even though this was her very first kiss, she knew enough to know Santana was a serious hater if she hadn't liked the way Sam's mouth felt on hers.

One of his hands dropped from her face to her waist to pull her closer, and he nibbled on her upper and lower lips before kissing them again. Mercedes moaned, then froze at the fact she had, indeed, _moaned_, and whimpered when Sam smiled against her mouth.

"My sentiments exactly," he murmured.

"This is a dream. I'm going to wake up and we'll be on the plane ride home with Kurt sleeping against my shoulder," Mercedes muttered, but she didn't pull away.

"Glad to know I'm not the only person who'd been dreaming about this," he said, his thumb starting to stroke the curve of her waist.

Mercedes began trembling at that caress. "You're lying…"

"I wanted to kiss you after prom," he admitted. "Hell, I wanted to kiss you before then, for bringing those cookies!"

Mercedes laughed, hiding her face in his chest. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her waist fully.

"I don't blame Finn for kissing Rachel like he did," Sam revealed. "But I think Rachel's the kind of girl who likes grand gestures like that."

"Even when they cost us national titles?"

"There are more important things than titles, Mercedes," Sam said, pulling back. "And hopefully bank accounts…or the lack thereof…"

She peered at him for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Are you—?"

"I'll understand if you don't," he said quickly. "It's not like I can take you out anywhere or that we'll have much alone time since I have to take care of my brother and sister—"

"I'm not Quinn," Mercedes blurted. "Or Santana. I'm not 'hot' like them, and I know things like that matter in high school—"

"You're fire, Mercedes," he said, kissing her again, "but you don't burn. You're warmth and comfort and light and _beautiful_."

And it was then she realized Sam Evans was dangerous, because she could easily see why girls fell in love with him. She half feared she'd been falling for a while and hadn't known it until now.

"I'd be honored, humbled and honored, if you'd go out with me, Miss Mercedes Jones," Sam proposed.

This time she didn't stay her hand from brushing the fringe from his eyes, and he smiled hopefully at her. She smiled as well and bit her lip shyly as her hand traveled from his forehead to his cheek to bring his mouth down to hers. He pulled her close, as if wanting to feel every curve of her body against his and he were infinitely glad she had a lot of them.

The sensations she felt began overwhelming her, so she tapped his shoulder so he could loosen his hold. He didn't, but he did ease his kissing until they were mere pecks on her mouth.

"I love that 'trouty mouth' of yours," she mumbled without thought.

"For some reason, that doesn't sound like an insult when you say it," he rumbled against her cheek.

"_Mmm_, take it for the compliment it's _definitely_ intended to be!" She chuckled a moment, then her mirth faded and she shook her head. "I don't want anyone to know."

Panic leapt into his eyes. "Mercedes, I'm sorr—"

"No!" She framed his face in her hands. "I'm _not_ ashamed of you! If anything—" She shook her head again, refusing to traipse down that path. "You see how the glee club is when relationships crop up, always in your business. I should know; I was one of the main ones!"

He grinned at her. "You weren't like that with any of mine—well, until you thought I was doing someone wrong—"

She looked away, embarrassed. "_Again_, so sorry about that—"

"Don't apologize," he said, grasping her chin to make her look at him again. "Trust me; I definitely understand how important loyalty is now."

She let out a relieved sigh. "Yes! And we need time to figure us out before the whole glee club descends upon us, and we have an entire summer to do it once school lets out in a couple of weeks. I _never _want to lose you as a friend, Sam, and we _both_ owe that to ourselves. You'll be my first true date and I'll…I don't know what I am to you, actually."

"Beautiful. Perfect. Mine," he said seriously.

She froze a moment, then closed her eyes and melted into him, letting the adjectives wash over her. "Oh, yeah, I'm definitely dreaming."

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her. "Then I'll be sure never to wake us up since I'm sharing the same dream."

In the end, Sam agreed to keep their dating under wraps, which didn't seem like it would be difficult at all since people were still preoccupied with Finn and Rachel and their Nationals loss. Mercedes, Tina, and Santana went souvenir shopping in the airport terminal since they hadn't had much time to do any shopping during the trip. She picked up a few items for her parents, and also an "I Love NY" teddy for Stacy and a small New York City skyline snow globe for Stevie. She and Sam also hadn't planned on sitting together on the trip back to Lima, which was just as well since Quinn occupied the seat next to her and Sam opted to sit with Artie. She and Quinn slept the majority of the way, only awakening to deplane and board the bus that would take them to William McKinley High.

It was chaotic once they reached the school with all the unboarding and recapping of the trip going on in the parking lot with their families. To their surprise, Mercedes and Sam found their parents and Quinn's mother chatting each other up as they waited with Stacy and Stevie playing tag around them.

"Sammy!" Stacy squealed when she spotted Sam. The siblings raced to their big brother, and he immediately crouched down to catch them both in a hug. Mercedes surreptitiously dropped the souvenir bag next to Sam's things before hugging her own parents and greeting the others.

"So, you're the famous Mercedes Jones," Mr. Evans said.

"Not yet, but working on that!" Mercedes joked, shaking Mr. and Mrs. Evans' hands. "Nice to meet you, sir, ma'am."

"I have to say, so glad for this glee club," Mrs. Evans said. "It's a special group with special kids in it."

"No argument there," Quinn's mother said. "And the Jones family is one of the most generous I've ever known. We'll always be indebted to them."

"Not a debt to help out others," Mrs. Jones insisted.

"That's what we try to teach baby girl here," Mr. Jones said.

"Daddy, _please_," Mercedes whined, and everyone chuckled.

"All right, Sam, are you ready? We have to get to work soon," Mrs. Evans said, checking her husband's watch.

"Yeah," Sam said, and gave Quinn a hug and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, tucking her short hair behind her ear, then gave Stacy and Stevie quick hugs as well.

When Sam turned to her, Mercedes wondered how on earth they would share the easy hug he and Quinn had when her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. He managed to make her laugh instead, giving her a bear hug that lifted her off the ground for a brief moment. The playfulness of the embrace effectively masked the intimacy of it, especially since Stevie and Stacy giggled delightfully at their antics.

"All right! I'll continue to bake the cookies, Sam!" Mercedes teased once he let go of her.

"Yay!" all three Evans children chorused and Mercedes gave them each high-fives and a parting hug to Quinn.

On the car ride home, Mercedes was smiling at her parents talking about how much they liked the Evans family and Quinn's haircut when her phone buzzed with a text. Her smile widened when she saw it was from Sam thanking her for the souvenirs.

"Quinn didn't know anything about them, so that means they're from you. Hopefully, I'll get to thank you properly soon," he said in the text with a winking face tacked on the end.

Mercedes managed to smother her snort as she texted back, "Damn straight!"


	3. Expert Advice

**Title:** Expert Advice  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Mike/Tina, Evans Siblings  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam asks Mike for a primer of how to make a relationship in glee club succeed.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> I think Sam and Mike are actually undercover BFFs, and I wanted to explore that a bit. Besides, I don't know who better else to ask about how to maintain a relationship considering Mike and Tina managed to last an entire season. That's like forty years in glee club time...please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mike Chang gave a "bro hug" the minute Sam opened the door, then high-fived Stevie and waved at a suddenly shy Stacy who giggled and hid her face behind a pillow.<p>

"Future heartbreaker, that one," Mike warned.

"We all have shotguns at the ready," Sam joked, winking at his little sister when she deigned to reveal her face once more. Stevie teasing her distracted Stacy from her embarrassment and Sam let his siblings fight for a while. _The Electric Company_ was about to come on PBS and they loved that show, which was why he'd chosen this time to ask Mike over so they could talk.

It was as if the two had immediately recognized a like-minded individual when he'd joined the football team, Mike telling him he'd reminded him of his best friend Matt who'd moved to Texas during last summer while Mike was eerily similar to his best friend Carlos Gutiérrez from home. In fact, it hadn't even been Finn who'd convinced him to join, but Mike, saying it really was one of the most accepting student groups in the entire school.

And as a new transfer, that had been too enticing to turn down.

But then Sam had gotten caught up in the pursuit of popularity and swept into the musical chairs that were glee club's relationships, yet he'd been observant enough to realize Tina and Mike had never been.

He wanted in on the secret.

"So, what's up?" Mike asked, sitting on the edge of the unoccupied bed. Sam sat next to him, amused when his siblings immediately stopped arguing as soon as the beginning strains of _The Electric Company_ theme came on.

Sam nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to find a way to ask without appearing to be nosy. But this was Mike, and he deserved more than dissembling. "How do you do it?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific…"

Sam chuckled and nodded. "Duh! Yes, I mean…how do you and Tina stay so strong amid all the romantic chaos that is glee club?"

Mike immediately rolled his eyes. "It's not Quinn again, is it?" He groaned, not waiting for Sam to respond. "Look, as scary as she can be sometimes, I really do like the girl; but let's not revisit that particular chapter, okay? Honestly, I'm surprised she waited this long to try to get you back—"

"No! No, no revisiting chapters, I promise," Sam said, shaking his head. "She's _not_ trying to get me back or vice versa. We really are better off as friends, trust me. She's been great…as a _friend_, it's not Quinn."

"_Or_ Santana," Mike added. "Because, seriously, dude, I'd have to reevaluate our friendship. And your sanity."

Sam merely gave Mike an "Are you kidding me?" look.

Mike sighed in relief. "But it _is_ someone in glee club, otherwise, you wouldn't ask me that," Mike said, clearly not needing Sam's confirmation.

"Ah—"

"And I know it's not Lauren or Tina because they're taken and you're not like that—Brittany? I mean, that kiss at Rachel's party was _pretty_ hot and heavy!"

"And drunken," Sam said, even as he smirked. "She _is_ a great kisser, though."

Mike nodded, a dopey grin on his face. "And if you ever tell Tina that, I'll taint your shampoo in the locker rooms to dye your hair purple."

"Noted," Sam said with a snort. "But not Brittany. She's sweet and hot, obviously, but there's too much…erm…_confusion_ with her."

"There's a word for it," Mike muttered.

"Besides," Sam continued, "I don't think it matters _who_ the person is; people seemed to be very curious about Jesse and he's not in glee."

"Used to be, remember?" Mike said. "And he betrayed us."

"Right," Sam said.

"And given all that's happened, safe to assume it's not Rachel, either. I really hope it isn't. I'm still amazed she's always the epicenter of just about every relationship drama as is."

"Not my type," Sam said definitively with a grin.

"Neither is Kurt, who is taken as well, so, hmm, guess it _isn't_ someone in glee…"

"Really, now?" Sam asked with an edge.

"Well, we went over all the—!" Mike's eyes suddenly went very wide and he slapped his hand over his mouth.

Sam rolled his eyes, irritated by the blush he knew Mike saw and his friend's reaction.

"How—wait—what? Start over!" Mike whispered fiercely, leaning forward. "You're interested in _Mercedes_?"

"I don't know if I like your tone," Sam whispered back with a frown.

"No! Nothing like that, just surprised," Mike admitted. "Really, though?"

"Why _not_ Mercedes? She's smart, funny, loyal, the most talented person in the whole club—"

"And _Mercedes_!" Mike reiterated. "I just—I don't know, she always seemed _above_ everything, you know? And talk about hard to impress! She shot _Puck_ down _multiple times_—nobody shoots down Puck!"

"Lauren did," Sam reminded him.

"The very Lauren who is now dating him."

"So did every other girl in glee club except for Tina…what does Puck have that nobody else does?"

"It's the mohawk," Mike said simply, "although he didn't have it when he and Mercedes were dating; he was really just Noah then."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and made a face. "I don't think that would work for me."

"Or for Mercedes," Mike said with a frown of his own. "She doesn't like fake, Sam. She's one of the most genuine people I know; so if you really want a shot, be real with her."

"I can do that," Sam said.

"And as for Tina and me…" Mike grinned and looked down at his fingers. "She accepts me and affirms me and I accept and affirm her. There's no one else in our relationship but us. I think the problem with the glee relationships is everyone is so concerned about what other people think. As long as your primary focus is each other, I think you'll stay out of the fray—that is, if you manage to convince Mercedes to go out with you!"

Sam nodded, not bothering to correct Mike's assumption on the status of his and Mercedes' relationship. "How _is_ Tina?"

The immediate smile that came on Mike's face really said it all. "She's great! Actually, hanging out with Mercedes and Quinn at Mercedes' house. I'd just dropped her off there," Mike said and he rubbed his hands. "They're baking cookies!"

"Cookies!" Stevie and Stacy shouted. "Sammy, is Mercedes coming over with cookies?" Stacy asked.

Mike's eyebrows rose and Sam ignored it to answer his sister. "It's not Thursday, y'all."

"But the _cookies_, Sammy!"

"I can text Tina to save some—Mercedes offered to drop Tina off here so I wouldn't have to double back; we're going to the movies," Mike said, whipping out his phone with his thumbs hovering over the keys.

"Sure! Yeah, Mercedes comes by with cookies on Thursdays; it's become something of an institution for them," Sam explained.

"That's awesome," Mike proclaimed. "She is one of the most generous people I know."

"She's amazing," Sam said, a dreamy look in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide.

Mike chuckled and began his text. "You're already gone, brother! Already gone!"

"Look," Sam said, lowering his voice and leaning forward to Mike. "Don't….tell anyone, okay?"

Mike shook his head. "Secret's safe with me." He then looked up from his phone and grinned at him. "Good luck, man. Now that I think about it, you two did look really good together at prom. Maybe this could be the start of something special."

Sam brightened at that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "At least you have that to go on. Let things flow naturally too. Trying to pace it will only lead to frustration and unnecessary heartache."

"You and Tina?"

"Tension all through Asian Summer Camp last year," Mike admitted, shaking his head wryly. "Tina refused to act on it until she broke it off with Artie."

"Y'all seem fine now—you, Tina, and Artie, I mean," Sam said.

"Because Artie is cool. It was rough at first, but then he found Brittany and we actually became quite close."

About fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Sam answered it. He gave both Tina and Mercedes a kiss on the cheek as they entered.

"Where's Quinn?" Sam asked, smiling a little at the way his siblings rushed to the Tupperware full of cookies.

"She had to go home, but she told me to give you guys these!" Mercedes said, enveloping Stacy and Stevie with large hugs.

Mike and Tina didn't stay long because their movie was starting soon, but Mike eyed Mercedes as she was saying goodbye to Tina and gave Sam a surreptitious wink of encouragement.

"And tell me if the movie is awesome; I'm still on the fence," Mercedes called after Tina as they left.

Sam shut the door and remained so close that Mercedes had to rest her back against it. "What are they going to see?"

"_Thor_," Mercedes answered.

"Have you read the comic?"

"Do I look like I read comics?"

Sam shrugged. "You look like you _could_…"

She tried to look aloof, but he raised a challenging eyebrow at her. "Fine, primarily _X-men_ though because I used to watch the cartoon when I was younger."

"This surprises me none," Sam said on a laugh. "That is such a starter comic for the layperson, but maybe we can go to the library and I can introduce you to more."

"Ask your parents if I'm allowed to take the Evans children on field trips, and we will," Mercedes said with a small smile.

Sam looked over his shoulder quickly and internally cheered when he saw his siblings occupied by the television again. He then wrapped Mercedes in his arms and snuck a kiss to her temple.

"I told Mike…sort of…"

"I told Tina…sort of…" she whispered in return.

Sam pulled back and grinned. "You had to tell someone too?"

"Yeah," Mercedes said, bunching his shirt at his waist. "This feeling I'm feeling is too much for me to keep inside. I would tell Kurt but he's on his 'love high' with Blaine and he'll try to yank us along to get us there with them, and I—"

"Want to go at _our_ pace," Sam said, brushing his knuckles against her cheek.

She sighed softly and leaned into his caress, closing her eyes. "Yeah."

"That's what Mike said to do," Sam said.

"Tina too."

"We have very wise friends," he murmured against her forehead.

"Yes," she agreed, snuggling into his chest.

They just stood there and held each other. Sam didn't remember feeling this content in a long while. She smelled of the cookies his family had grown to love and he really wanted to taste her; but he couldn't take the risk with his siblings in the room.

"We need to move out of this motel soon," Sam murmured, his breath brushing her hair atop her head. "I need privacy with you."

"Uh, what do you think is gonna go down, boy?" Mercedes asked on a chuckle.

"Hopefully some kissin' and some cuddlin'," he teased, sneaking a hand down to her hip and squeezing.

Mercedes muffled her giggle in his chest and he hid his smile in her hair. "I see."

"You want my kisses and cuddles," Sam whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she confessed, suddenly becoming quiet. "More than anything."

Sam pulled back again and lifted her face so their eyes could meet. "Mercedes…"

"I should go before I tackle you in front of your siblings," Mercedes mumbled and managed to use his shock at her words to walk around him and give Stevie and Stacy hugs goodbye.

"I'm walking you to your car," Sam announced so his siblings would know he was going to be out for a few moments.

Mercedes shook her head. "You don't—"

"Yes, I do," Sam rumbled, and Mercedes' eyes widened as she nodded.

"We'll still see you Thursday, Mercedes?" Stevie asked, never taking his eyes from the television screen.

"Yes, sweetie, you will," she told them both. "Be good for Sam!"

"We will!" they promised.

"Lock the door behind me and don't open it unless it's me, Mom, or Dad," he told Stevie.

"How far away is the car?" Stevie asked, this time turning around to regard him, but immediately turned back when Sam shot him a menacing look.

Mercedes giggled the entire short walk to her car, Sam trying not to grin but unable to help it when she laughed like that.

"You only think they're cute because you don't have to spend all day with them!" he said, leaning her against her car door.

"I bet you were just as cute when you were their age."

"I'm still cute."

"Yes," she agreed.

"And you are gorgeous," he whispered and finally kissed her, brushing his nose against hers when they broke apart. "Drive home safely, lady."

"Kiss me again and I'll go," she murmured.

"Only you could make kissing a threat instead of a promise," he teased but kissed her again, making sure this was a short one so he wouldn't give into pulling her close and never letting her go.

He remained outside until he could no longer see her taillights. Stacy opened the door for him when he knocked and demanded to be held.

"Is Mercedes your new girlfriend?" she asked once he'd settled her on his hip.

"Uh—"

"If I were you I wouldn't let a woman like that go," Stevie said wisely, and Stacy nodded emphatically.

He chuckled, giving Stacy a smacking kiss to her cheek and ruffling Stevie's hair. "I'll keep that advice in mind," he promised.

He'd also keep it in his heart.


	4. Already Gone

**Title:** Already Gone  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Evans Siblings  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> All Mercedes wanted to do was go home and go to bed; but then Sam called, and she couldn't tell him no.

* * *

><p>Mercedes had had a long day at the bridal shop where she worked. Three fingers now sported Band-Aids from poking herself with needles and safety pins and she'd almost gotten herself fired because she'd been two seconds away from cussing out a bride-to-be that made Rachel seem Zen. She'd known summer was a busy time of year for the shop, which was why she'd decided to work there, but this was craziness! All she now wanted to do was curl in her bed and go to sleep, not caring it wasn't even seven in the evening yet and she hadn't eaten dinner.<p>

Neither of her parents was home when she entered her house. They'd left a note on the fridge's whiteboard letting her know about some black-tie gala for the local African-American business owners. She sighed mostly in relief and a bit of amusement that there were enough African Americans in Lima period to pull off such an event.

She'd just kicked off her mules when her cell phone rang. She rolled her eyes, thinking it was her mother checking in, but grinned tiredly when she saw it wasn't.

"Hey, you," Mercedes said softly, sitting at the breakfast bar in her kitchen with her feet dangling from the tall chair.

"Hey, lady," Sam's deep voice greeted her. "I've missed you."

Ever since school had let out and summer started, Thursday Cookie Nights had been postponed because she'd immediately started her seamstress job at the bridal shop, leaving her little time to bake cookies. Sam had also gotten a job as a summer camp counselor at his and Quinn's church in addition to delivering pizzas, so their schedules were rarely aligned.

"You, too, Sam," Mercedes said. "What's up?"

"I have a huge favor to ask," he said. "I was supposed to be off tonight from the pizza place, but a guy called in sick and they asked me to pinch hit. We could really use the extra—"

"What time do you have to be there?" Mercedes asked, already slipping on her mules.

"Thirty—are you sure? Normally, Quinn stays when I have to work but she has plans…"

"I don't mind, Sam," Mercedes said, scribbling her own note on the whiteboard before grabbing her keys and heading to her car. "Have Stacy and Stevie eaten yet?"

"Stopped by Burger King on the way home," Sam replied.

At that, Mercedes' stomach growled and she groaned, grabbing a granola bar from the counter and trudging out the door. "See you shortly."

Sam was already outside when she pulled into the motel's parking lot, hanging by the door and looking adorably corny in his uniform with the pizza hat on his head. When she approached he immediately linked their fingers together and kissed her forehead.

"This sucks. I finally get to see you and I have to go."

"I'll be here when you get back," she reminded him, squeezing his fingers. "Now go on so you won't be late."

He escorted her inside and said goodbye to her and his siblings one more time before leaving.

"No cookies this time?" Stevie asked with a pout.

"Sorry, guys. I didn't have time. I hope I'll have some time when I next visit," Mercedes apologized.

"That's all right—we have cupcakes from camp!" Stacy said and gave her one.

The siblings almost talked over each other as they shared what their camp experiences had been so far. Quinn was their age group's counselor while Sam had middle school–aged kids under his watch. Yet from how busy their day seemed to have been as well, Mercedes wondered how they had enough energy to even retell the story, let alone act out parts of it.

Around the second hour, though, they began slowing down, and Mercedes convinced them to change for bed. She helped Stacy wash her face and brush her teeth while Stevie changed; and after all had finished getting ready, they scrambled up into the bed.

"You comin', Mercedes?" Stacy asked.

She was too tired to turn down the invitation. Stacy clapped excitedly and immediately snuggled against her when Mercedes lay on the bed. Stevie looked at her sleepily.

"Can you sing for us?" he asked.

She rocked Stacy absently and smoothed down the hair on the girl's head. "Yeah, let me think…"

Mercedes decided on "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" because it was simple and a sleep-inducing melody. In fact, she'd barely reached the second verse before both Evans siblings were snoring softly. Mercedes switched from a sing to a hum, still rocking Stacy gently and pulling up the covers to make sure Stevie remained comfortable. Her own eyes were growing heavy, to the point the images on the television screen became blurred, and she finally succumbed to her own exhaustion.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was greeted to the glorious sight of Sam shirtless. She forced herself to swallow to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, but she couldn't stop a quiet, yet very appreciative "wow" from letting loose. He spun around, surprised, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, but those lips of his she loved so much curved slightly even as he blushed.

"Did I wake you?" he asked with that low, deep, sexy voice of his.

"It's fine," Mercedes said a little breathlessly and cleared her throat. She eased out of bed so not to disturb the sleeping siblings and grabbed her purse. "I should go anyway." It was almost eleven at night.

She almost groaned with dismay when he finished putting on his T-shirt but smiled as he checked on his siblings himself.

"Out like lights," he said.

"Yeah, they were good."

"Thank you again, Mercedes," he said, coming to stand in front of her.

"That's what friends do," Mercedes reminded him. "If it weren't me, it would've been Quinn…"

"Yes, that's true," Sam conceded even as he touched his nose to hers. "But you're not only my friend, either, Mercedes."

Unable to resist, she slipped her hands underneath his T-shirt to feel his cool skin, and he grasped her elbows to bring her closer. They still hadn't kissed properly, Mercedes relishing in the anticipation of it and the way his breathing grew deeper and louder with each inhalation and exhalation he made.

"When I came in and saw y'all sleepin', I was really jealous of Stacy," he confessed against her temple.

"Why?"

"She got to snuggle with you before I could…"

"Then I should be jealous of her too," Mercedes whispered against his jaw.

"I wish I could snuggle with you now," he murmured in her ear. "Five minutes, Mercedes. Let me hold you."

She nodded into his neck, loving for some reason that he still smelled like tomato sauce, garlic, and mozzarella, her throat closing against words she thought were too soon to say but felt within the core of her anyway. He led her to his cot where he slept, getting in first as if to test the sturdiness of it, then grasped her hand and pulled her down next to him. It was an incredibly snug fit, making Mercedes tight with tension, until Sam tugged so she was almost sprawled atop him.

"Sam! I'm too hea—"

He kissed the words from her mouth. "You're just right for me," he breathed when they broke apart, and he quirked a smile at her. "You know I'm never lettin' you go, right?"

She loved it when he let his Tennessee drawl into his speech; it meant he was relaxed, calm, content. She'd only ever heard him speak like that with his family…and now, with her.

Sighing, she cupped his cheek. "Sam—"

Alarm filled his eyes and he gently grasped her left hand. "What the hell happened?"

She'd forgotten all about her bandaged fingers and chuckled sheepishly. "Bad day at the office—stabbed myself accidentally so I would poke that heffa of a client purposefully!"

His brows rose but then he chuckled and placed a healing kiss on each injured digit. "You adorable martyr you…"

It was when he started using his teeth and tongue to nibble and lick the heel of her hand that Mercedes shuddered and all but yanked her hand away. Amused and undeterred, Sam turned those delicious attentions to her jaw. His hands weren't idle in the slightest, mapping her back to the curve of her bum and up again while Mercedes gripped his shoulders for strength.

"I have to go home eventually," Mercedes warned him when she realized he really didn't have any intention of letting her up anytime soon. She really supposed she should be more irritated than she was about that.

That intense look returned in his green eyes, and he licked his lips as he brushed his fingers along her hairline and cheek. "Home is where the heart is, Mercedes."

Her throat squeezed shut again and tears pricked her eyes. Finally, a large breath of air escaped as a giddy chuckle as she kissed him softly but with a wealth of feeling, Sam's arms banding securely around her.

If home were indeed where the heart was, Mercedes hadn't left this motel room since the Wednesday before Nationals.


	5. Dancing Royalty

**Title:** Dancing Royalty  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Dancing is an important courtship ritual for Sam.

* * *

><p>Sam Evans had a new best friend—Brittany S. Pierce.<p>

God bless her, truly; for had it not been for her, he would've been forced to pull Mercedes on the makeshift dance floor himself, thus ruining any chance of keeping their relationship a secret. But beautiful, unassuming Brittany did the dirty work for him and had no clue of the boon she'd provided to him and…as he looked around the room…every other male at the party.

Including Kurt, although for slightly different reasons, Sam was sure.

"I know you can dance now," Brittany had stated matter-of-factly over the music and Mercedes' denials. "You didn't dance at Rachel's party, so I didn't think you could outside of glee club. And then I saw you dancing with Sam at prom and you were hot. So now I want you to dance with me, Mercedes."

The bewildered look on Mercedes' face was adorable to Sam and apparently very comical to everyone else. "I—"

"Come on," Brittany encouraged, pulling Mercedes from the couch where she'd been talking with Tina and Lauren, then turned around and did a shimmy. "I can totally handle your jelly."

And then Santana had come up behind Mercedes and did a playful…hopefully…grind that made Sam take a large gulp of his Mountain Dew (unfortunately, this party had the Hudson-Hummel parents around, so there was no sneaking alcohol at this Memorial Day bash). Soon after, the rest of the girls had joined in, dancing more provocatively than any of the guys had ever seen before because Mr. Schuester could be a stick-in-the-mud when it came to these things sometimes, and Puck had declared Artie had the best quasi-girlfriend ever.

"Yeah…I got it like that…" Artie had agreed, brushing imaginary dirt off his collar.

But Sam's eyes had barely left Mercedes. Every curve she possessed was in motion, and he wanted to ride every one of them. Brittany might be the best female dancer in the club, but Mercedes had to be the sexiest. It was as if the music were hotwired into her, so in sync she was with it.

"Damn, if I'd known you could move like that, sexy mama—"

"Don't even finish that thought, Puckerman!" Mercedes warned, pointing a stern finger at him. "You _definitely_ wasn't ready for all this jelly!" And then she did a twist to the ground and back up that made Sam groan in his empty cup.

"I am, though!" Blaine announced, then "backed it up" to where the ladies were dancing. They whooped and hollered, Santana now grinding into him and Blaine seeming to enjoy every moment of it. Not that Sam blamed him; Santana had one of the best backsides at McKinley.

Mercedes, obviously, having the other.

Sam remembered when he'd first seen it in full effect while she and Santana had performed their duet. Once they'd turned around and "shaken what their mamas had given them", he'd forgotten about his pursuit of Quinn for that moment and had focused on the white leopard-print loveliness gyrating in front of him. And then when Mercedes had sung her original song, working the room like the diva she proclaimed herself to be, he'd been spellbound, to the point his heart rate had increased when she'd engaged him during her performance. He'd been secretly relieved that she hadn't made a face at his "HELL NO" sign…he'd known Santana wouldn't have appreciated a move as corny as that.

"You're staring, man. Hard."

Sam tore his eyes away from Mercedes booty popping with Rachel and Quinn to glance at Mike, and then he smirked.

"So...progress, I take it?" Mike asked.

Sam gave a noncommittal shrug and genuinely smiled when Kurt and Mercedes began a playful tango around the room. Mercedes threw back her head and laughed when Kurt made her dip him as he kicked his leg out Rockette style.

"You know you have to dish sooner or later," Mike warned him.

"Then it'll be later; too many eyes and ears here," Sam said, his eyebrows climbing into his bangs as Blaine now moved to booty pop with an enthusiastic Tina.

"I'm holding you to that," Mike said, clapping Sam on his shoulder. "In the meantime, I'm gonna get my woman!"

Sam managed to tamp down the surge of jealousy that had suddenly swamped him at that comment; but it quickly resurfaced when he spotted Mercedes and Puck dancing against each other with her back to his front and Puck's hand much, _much_ too low on her hip. He was whispering in her ear and she was laughing until she booty-bumped him away from her, sashaying to Lauren and placing the taller girl's hand in her boyfriend's. She then proceeded to give Lauren a lesson in booty popping that had Puck puffing out his chest as if he'd just won the lottery.

Not that Sam could much blame him.

"You should go dance with her now."

Sam's brows furrowed as he turned to Brittany. "Dance with who?"

"Mercedes, silly! I think you've handled her jelly the best thus far—well, other than me and Kurt."

He frowned even more, well aware he had to be blushing now. "Um—"

Brittany shook her head and danced them to where Mercedes, Mike, and Tina were cutting a rug. Mercedes' eyes grew wide when Brittany practically pushed Sam into her chest.

"Dance!" Brittany demanded and did a robot move. "You two were super cute when you did that at prom."

"This is true!" Tina agreed excitedly, snaking her arms to Mike who did a crazy locking move. "How you two managed to make one of the corniest dances ever look adorable was amazing!"

Mercedes arched an eyebrow at him as if in challenge.

Sam, of course, accepted.

It turned out to be an intimate, but far less drama-filled affair than prom. The only difference—and a big one for Sam—was he and Mercedes didn't slow dance.

He wasn't a huge fan of that.

That slow dance at prom was the first time he'd danced with a girl without any pressure or self-criticism. Mercedes had made him feel like a prince even though he certainly was the pauper of that night. She'd even complimented him on bringing the bolo tie back but teased him about his "bangs" in a way that'd had him laughing amicably along with her, not hiding his face in shame. And she'd felt soft and wonderful in his arms, like beauty itself.

Sam wanted that again.

However, before he knew it, the party was over. He began helping Kurt clean up along with Blaine and Mercedes while Finn and Rachel said goodbye as the guests began to leave. Though he knew he couldn't stay for long, it was the least he could do considering all the Hudson-Hummels had done for his family.

"Does someone need to give you a ride home?" Finn's mother asked, boxing up some of the leftover chicken wings from the party.

Sam shook his head and tied a trash bag closed. "Mike—"

"I just said goodbye to Mike," Finn interrupted, coming into the kitchen with his arm around Rachel. "Told me to say thanks to Mercedes for offering to take you home."

"Oh, yeah!" Mercedes said, giving him a sheepish smile. "I have cookies for your brother and sister, Sam, so I figured I'd just drop them off along with you if that's okay?"

Sam stared at the trash bag so he wouldn't be tempted to go to her and kiss her breathless. "Perfectly fine. Thanks, Mercedes."

"No problem, Sam. Happy to."

"But what about _us_?" Finn exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"What _about_ you?" Mercedes asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cookies? C'mon, 'Cedes—!" Finn immediately bit off his speech when Mercedes nodded her head to a cookie tin on the counter. He then swallowed Mercedes up in a robust hug.

"So glad you're my bro's BFF!" he exclaimed.

"Thanks a lot, Mercedes!" Rachel said with a faux pout. "Now he's going to spend more time nibbling on those than on me!"

It went completely silent in the kitchen where they all were and he and Mercedes shared an "I can't believe she said that!" look.

"And thank you, Rachel, for injecting that lovely shot of awkwardness into the conversation!" Kurt said with false sweetness.

"I stand by my statement," Rachel said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Of course you do, dear," Kurt said, patting her shoulder as he and Blaine passed to start straightening up the living room. "But that's only because you've not had one of Mercedes' cookies, obviously."

"Are they really that good?" Blaine asked in a stage whisper.

"Let's just say if I were ever stuck on a deserted island and had to choose between you and those cookies, it'd be the hardest choice of my life!"

Sam bit back a snicker, especially when he caught Mercedes rolling her eyes with Mrs. Hudson-Hummel.

"Okay, Sam! Along with Mercedes' fabulous cookies are some of my chicken wings—"

He automatically shook his head. "I couldn't, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel—"

"Sam Evans, you don't ever say no to Ms. Carol's chicken wings!" Mercedes admonished.

"Yes, ma'am!" Sam said, saluting the command while Finn laughed and took the trash bag from him. Mercedes rolled her eyes but grinned as well.

"Ready?" she asked.

He approached and took the bags of food from her, intentionally brushing his fingers along her knuckles. "Yeah."

The two said their goodbyes and soon they were on the way back to the motel. The beginning of the ride was silent while Sam scrolled through her mp3 player. A song caught his eye and he glanced around.

"Can we make a quick detour?" he asked.

Mercedes checked the clock on the stereo. "Yeah, that shouldn't make me too late for curfew. Have an errand to run?"

He just grinned at her, and quickly earned a frown in return. "Sam Evans, what are you up to?"

He grinned wider and bounced in his seat. "Just drive, lady…"

He directed her to the library where there was a playground next to it. She parked in the lot that the library and the playground shared, then jumped out of the car. Mercedes continued looking at him as if he were crazy, but there was fondness in her gaze as well.

"Start talking, Evans," she demanded as he pulled her out of the car.

Sam kissed her forehead. "Patience, lady. Keys please?"

She smiled curiously but handed them over, and he turned solely the battery and queued up her mp3 player. "Someone to Watch over Me" began playing through her car's speakers.

"What do you know about Miss Ella?" Mercedes asked as he got out of the car again, clearly impressed.

"It's one of my mother's favorite songs," Sam said, tangling their fingers together. "Says this was the first song she and Dad ever danced to. It was for a school play, but she counted it anyway."

"That's so sweet!" Mercedes cooed.

"I wanted to slow dance with you tonight," Sam said, drawing her nearer as he began to sway. "So…can I?"

She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking her fingers into his nape. They barely moved, Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of the Gershwin classic playing on loop and weaving magic around them. They didn't kiss, but instead shared breath, his lips drifting over hers. After two complete repetitions of the song, Mercedes shifted her hold to a hug and rested her cheek against his chest.

"This is the best detour ever," she determined.

He smiled broadly. "Yeah?"

"You're so good to me, Sam," she said with a nod, squeezing him. "I don't know what I did to have you in my life, but I pray I keep doing it."

Never had a girl said something so wonderful to him. He felt on top of the world, the very world he wanted to give her in return. And though he couldn't do that quite just yet, Sam tilted her chin up so he could at least give her a kiss in gratitude and something much more powerful.

"What you did…" Sam began against her mouth, "when I asked you to dance at prom, you said yes, and you haven't stopped dancing with me since."

"I love dancing with you," Mercedes said, squeezing his waist again and resting her chin against his chest so she could continue looking at him. And despite the harsh, artificial light of the street lamp above them, Sam spotted an emotion in her eyes that had him praying he wasn't seeing things…yet praying she _could_ see the very genuine emotion in his.

But just to make sure, Sam cupped Mercedes' face in his hands and kissed her once more. "I hope you have some good dancing shoes, lady, because I don't plan to stop."


	6. Seasonal Considerations

**Title:** Seasonal Considerations  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Quinn  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mercedes prepares for a season, Sam has other plans.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for some sexual situations and potty trouty mouths. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>"I've missed you, Mercedes."<p>

Mercedes almost choked on the latte she'd been sipping, so unprepared she was for that statement. Brows furrowed, Mercedes finished swallowing her drink and regarded her companion across from her.

"I haven't gone anywhere, Quinn…"

The blonde nodded and smiled such a beautifully sad smile Mercedes' heart hurt. "I know; but I did, and I shouldn't have done that to you. I'm sorry."

Mercedes looked at the table and took a series of deep breaths. If she were honest with herself, Mercedes was surprised they were even here at the Lima Bean having coffee like they'd used to do when Quinn had been pregnant, although then, Quinn had favored green tea and scones. Mercedes hadn't been prepared for that text an hour after arriving home from church; but for Quinn to text, it must have been something important, and deep in her heart Mercedes still considered Quinn a soul sister even if that were no longer mutual.

Yes, it had hurt that she had almost reverted fully pre-pregnancy!Quinn, the Quinn who was the head bitch of the Cheerios and wore the distinction proudly, the Quinn who'd discovered the soft heart Mercedes had tried to hide with her sass and had manipulated it to the point she'd "fallen in love" with one of the most obvious gay guys on the planet, even if later Mercedes had sorted it out as platonic instead of romantic; the same Quinn who wouldn't have even spared a tissue if Mercedes had been slushied in the halls. But her mother had taught her long ago that some people were only meant to be in one's life for a season and to always cherish that season if it were a good one and to appreciate knowing one's come out stronger for it if it were bad. The problem was Mercedes really was a ride-or-die chick; once someone came into her heart, that person pretty much stayed there for life.

Unfortunately, there hadn't been many people who returned the favor with her.

"It's all right. I understand wanting to reclaim something you've lost, Quinn. You had to try; you would've regretted it if you didn't."

Quinn shook her head. "That's crap and you know it, Mercedes. What exactly did I lose, hmm? A bunch of fake people who only liked the uniform I wore instead of the person inside it? A guy who was just as caught up in popularity as I was? We were volatile, Finn and I; and if I'd maintained my friendship with you, you would've told me that!"

Mercedes shrugged and shook her head. "I was rooting for you two the first go round, remember?"

"But not the second?"

"I didn't like the way that went down," Mercedes said honestly, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that came with that confession. "From what I saw, Sam was good to you and you…"

"He was very good to me," Quinn said on a sigh. "So was Puck. And even Finn tried to be. They were all good, but I couldn't appreciate it."

"You were looking for a man to fix whatever is wrong with you, and a man can't do that, Quinn," Mercedes said. "I told you that before and I'm telling you that again. You've _got_ to believe in your own strength as a woman; otherwise, you'll be vulnerable to men who only want a doormat or a trophy, and you owe it to yourself to be more than that."

"I had a good one," Quinn said after a moment.

Mercedes took another sip of her latte and nodded, unable to look into Quinn's eyes.

"Think I could get him back?" Quinn asked.

Mercedes' eyes snapped up to Quinn, and her gaze was waiting. "Um. From what I gather, you can have any man you want." Mercedes hoped Quinn couldn't hear her bitterness.

"Thank you for being honest," Quinn said.

"Quinn, I've never lied to you; don't plan on starting now," Mercedes said.

"Good. Then you can explain what's going on between you and Sam."

This time, Mercedes almost splashed very hot liquid on her hand, but she recovered her grip in time. She set the cup down and sat back in her chair, a corner of her lower lip sneaking between her teeth.

"Thursday Night Cookies, you know this," Mercedes said finally.

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Stevie and Stacy talk, Mercedes, especially since I'm their camp counselor at the church. They think you're Sam's girlfriend."

"Why would they think that?" Mercedes asked with wide eyes, suddenly intrigued by the signage all around the coffeehouse. "I usually hang out with them more than Sam."

"Stacy says she saw you two kissing in the motel parking lot, and Stevie says Sam gets this dopey smile on his face whenever someone mentions your name."

By the time Mercedes realized there was a matching dopey smile on her face, Quinn sent a triumphant smirk her way.

"I'm not his girlfriend," Mercedes insisted. "We're just…seeing where this goes."

"Since prom?" Quinn asked.

"Um, New York is when we officially decided to try whatever this is out." Mercedes huffed and rolled her eyes. "I thought we were so careful!"

"What I don't understand is why you feel the need to hide this," Quinn said. "Does Kurt know?"

Mercedes shook his head. "Nobody knew, although I did tell Tina I had a crush on Sam—"

"It's way more than a crush, Mercedes."

Again, she refused to look at Quinn, smoothing her hands along the table. "So you think."

Quinn laughed, though not unkindly. "I dated Sam, remember? He woos you, makes you feel like you're the most special girl in the world. He takes such great care that you can't help but fall a little bit in love with him. Hell, even Santana did, although she'd deny that in a heartbeat!"

Mercedes scoffed. "And the other reason why we haven't said anything. She's damn territorial over people who are no longer hers."

"She'll get over it," Quinn said.

"Like you did with Finn?"

Quinn grew silent for a moment. "I deserved that."

"Quinn—"

"No, don't apologize, Mercedes, I _did_ deserve that. I hurt a really wonderful guy because of my selfishness. I wanted everything and ended up with nothing."

"You don't have nothing, Quinn; you have friends."

"Still?" Quinn asked, looking at her pointedly.

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah. Silly of me, isn't it? To want to stick around when I'm not needed anymore—"

"Mercedes—!"

"But I do anyway, because I want to be liked, so I let myself be the 'emergency best friend', the one you all go to when the others are unavailable. But that's okay…"

"I don't like hearing you talk like this," Quinn said softly.

Mercedes shrugged, looking at the tabletop again. "Sometimes the truth is unpleasant."

"B-but Kurt's your best friend—"

"Yes, but I don't think I'm his anymore," Mercedes said, feeling the sharpness of that hidden fear deep in her heart. "We haven't been the same since his father's heart attack, to be honest, and he has Blaine and Finn and Rachel now. Tina has Mike and even Brittany and Artie. Lauren's with Puck and her A/V friends mostly…" Mercedes took a deep breath and blinked furiously. "So, I'm Sam's for now, except there's more to it than that. He keeps worrying about not being able to take me out properly or whatever, but I don't need that. I make sure he and his siblings are good but then he turns around and asks me how my day is and makes me laugh. And every time we touch…I feel…beautiful—not just sexy, but _beautiful_. And I adore his family. They're so good and strong and resilient and I wish I could do more for them."

"Oh, Mercedes…"

Mercedes shook her head and stood abruptly, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I'm a fool, I know, but I didn't want anyone to know about me and Sam because I wanted this season for _me_. I'm not like you, Quinn, or Santana, or even Rachel. When this ends with Sam, this is probably the last time I'll feel this way in a long time…if ever. And I'm too young for it, and too 'sassy' and 'independent' for it, but I _want_ it for as long as I can have it."

She left Quinn sitting there, throwing away her half-full cup of latte on the way out of the Lima Bean. Quinn called after her, but Mercedes didn't stop until she was at her car.

"You're not a fool, Mercedes."

"Yeah, I am," she insisted with a derisive laugh. "When Sam's family get back on their feet—which I know they will because they're too amazing not to—he won't need me anymore, but, damn it—" Her phone buzzed, and she saw it was a text from Sam asking her to come over. "I have to go."

"Your mom?" Quinn asked.

Mercedes didn't answer that question. "It was good to see you, Quinn."

And again, the blonde surprised her; though this time, with a hug. "Don't ever talk to me like an acquaintance again, Mercedes."

Mercedes' breath was ragged but she hugged Quinn tightly. "Then stop acting like one."

Quinn nodded and brushed away another tear even as her own green eyes filled with them. "Definitely." She backed up so Mercedes could get in her car, but asked her to roll down the window.

"Yeah?" Mercedes asked once she did.

"Take it from me—Sam doesn't enter into any relationship without giving it his all; so this notion you have about being an 'emergency' or 'a season'…I would revisit that, if I were you."

Mercedes gave a short nod then drove off, cursing the fact Quinn's words reverberated deep within her gut. God, give her strength if that other shoe never dropped because then Mercedes knew she'd be falling for Sam forever.

She stopped by the grocery store to get a bag of Doritos for Sam and animal crackers for Stevie and Stacy; she always felt uncomfortable going to the motel empty-handed. When she final pulled into the motel's lot, Sam was already out the door and approaching her car before Mercedes could unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Hi—" Sam's hug squeezed the air out of her lungs, so tight it was, that she had to hit his back to get him to loosen his hold. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I'm asking you," he said, his deep voice rough as a thumb trailed her cheek. "You've been crying."

"Where's Stevie and Stacy?" Mercedes deflected, looking around him toward their motel room.

"With friends from church while Mom and Dad are out on a date, actually," Sam said, though there was no seduction in his tone. "Who made you cry?"

The absolute chill in his voice made Mercedes shiver. "Um, no one—"

"You never cry without a reason, Mercedes," Sam told her. "And I try very hard never to be one."

She shook her head even as her heart turned further into goo. "I had a coffee with Quinn—"

"Did she say something to you?" he asked, his face turning mutinous. "If she—"

"Sang your praises, actually," Mercedes interrupted, running her hands along his muscular arms to calm him. "Said what a great guy you are. She regrets how she treated you."

"Now she does," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Where was all of this when we were going out?"

Mercedes flinched and eased out of his arms to grab the shopping bag from the passenger seat. "I completely understand that you still have feelings for her, Sam." She then started for the room but kept her face buried in the bag to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. "She knows she did you wrong, and you never forget your first love, I've heard."

"I have memories, not feelings," Sam corrected firmly as they entered the room and took the bag from her, "and yes some of them are very fond. But the only person I have feelings for is you."

"Sam," she breathed, clenching her hand to her chest to keep her heart from pounding out of it. "You don't have to say that."

"Yes, I do," Sam said from behind her, then spun her around to face him. "In fact," he continued, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. "That's why I wanted you to come over. I got a weird vibe and immediately thought of you. And here you are, crying still."

She hugged him, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in his neck. "Why are you so perfect?"

He laughed self-consciously and shook his head. "Oh, no. Not perfect at all! I tend to rush through things and I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer and—"

"You're perfect to me," she whispered in his ear.

The energy between them shifted and Sam's hands tightened at her waist. He kissed her ear then nibbled on the curve of it, making her moan low in her throat. He slid his large, warm hands up her back toward the zipper of the strapless summer dress she wore, fiddling with it before guiding his fingers between the dress and her skin. Mercedes pressed closer against him, not sure if she were fleeing from his hands or trying to feel all of him against her.

"You're so soft and smell so good, lady," Sam murmured against her cheek on the way to her lips. He pecked her mouth and she groaned.

"Stop teasing me," she admonished.

"You tease me just by breathing," Sam confessed, mapping her curves. His hands rested high on her torso, near her breasts, but then traveled down to the safer area of her waist again.

Mercedes bit her bottom lip as she gazed at him. "I'm sorry."

"Never be sorry for being gorgeous," he told her and kissed her again.

"I'm not apologizing for that," Mercedes said on a little laugh. "But I don't mean to make this hard—"

"Jesus, 'Cedes!"

Mercedes paused, confused briefly, and then she burst out laughing so hard that she collapsed onto the bed and clutched her tummy. The bed sank under Sam's heavy weight but a light finger brushed her cheek.

"I don't think I mind making you cry these tears," he said, then kissed the very cheek he'd caressed.

"No," she agreed, reaching up to grasp the nape of his neck. He came down willingly and kissed her. He let his hand blaze a path from her hip to the top of her ribs but never anywhere else. Mercedes kept shifting to be closer to him; but Sam stayed her with his strong grip and gulped in some air as he broke the kiss.

"Don't—I can't—_damn_—!"

He flung himself on his back away from her. Mercedes stared at the ceiling, her body still humming from his kisses and his touches, valiantly trying not to let self-doubt invade her mind. Maybe she'd read him wrong? Yes, she was inexperienced, but she didn't think she was stupid. Mercedes couldn't have imagined the desire in Sam's eyes when he looked at her sometimes, or how enthusiastic he'd seemed to be when he'd kissed her before.

"Did I do something wrong? Because you'll have to let me know. I've never made out with someone before, Sam," she said bluntly. It was better to just put it out there than play it off.

Sam muttered under his breath. "I had this problem with Quinn—"

"Ugh!" That had been the exact wrong thing for him to say. She started to leave the bed but he rolled back to her and pressed her down in the bedding.

"Let me up, Sam," Mercedes said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he said softly, grasping her chin to turn her face to him.

Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "I feel like an idiot! Of course I could never compare to her! I can't believe I actually told Quinn you made me feel _beautiful_—"

And damn if this kiss Sam laid on her still didn't make her feel so, this time complete with tongue. He moved so he was fully atop her, his pelvis grinding into hers.

"No!" Mercedes exclaimed, finally drawing enough clarity to wrench her mouth from his. "You don't get to kiss me like that if you won't follow through—"

"If I follow through, you're not leaving this motel room a virgin, Mercedes Jones," Sam growled at her, his green eyes positively glowing. "Is that _really_ what you want?"

She gaped at him.

"Dammit," Sam whispered, hiding his face in the pillow beside her head. "I should've never touched you."

He was breathing heavily and she could feel _him_ on her thigh. "Sam?"

"Quinn was a tease," Sam said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "She had all the power, and she knew it, but she'd never let me follow through. Santana had all the power, but…well…"

"Right," Mercedes muttered. "And now you have all the power, but I guess I'm not enough, or _too much_, to make you lose control…"

His laugh was loud but without any humor. "See, that's where you're wrong, Mercedes. _You_ have more power than them combined and you have no clue you do."

Her breath froze in her throat. "I do?"

He nodded, moaned, and kissed her collarbone. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to take off this dress and worship every sexy inch of you?" He licked her and started moving lower even while his hand dragged up her thigh underneath the skirt of her dress. "Jesus, you're soft everywhere…"

When he laved her cleavage, Mercedes bucked and whimpered. Her nipples hardened and the area between her legs grew heavy and damp.

"Sam," she gasped out, tangling her fingers into his blond locks as her legs fell apart to accommodate him.

"I want to make you come so bad, Mercedes," he whispered against the swell of her left breast and his fingers found the inside of her thigh. "But I can't, because if I do the room will smell like you, and my parents will know and I'll never forget because your scent will drive me crazy."

"Sam—"

"But I can't _not_ touch you," he breathed, slipping his fingers up until they grazed the crotch of her panties. "Damn, you're already soaked."

"Please," she whispered, gripping his shoulders and bucking her hips. "Sam…"

"We're in the bed my parents sleep in," Sam said with a little scowl, but he did apply a little pressure to her. "I hate this fucking motel room!"

Mercedes groaned, unexpectedly turned on by his expletive. Sam's eyes widened but then he smirked at her.

"You like it when I curse?" he asked, nibbling his way up her neck while still lazily stroking her between her legs, which started to shake terribly.

"I love that dirty, trouty mouth of yours," Mercedes whispered into his forehead.

"_Mmm_," he intoned, kissing her softly as his fingers teased the edges of her panties. "I'll remember that."

"See that you do," she said, her vision becoming hazy as her senses became overloaded with pheromones and Sam Evans.

"Follow me," Sam said, leaving the bed and taking her with him. He pushed her into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat, then brought her on top of him.

"I'm gonna make you come, Mercedes," he promised, wrapping a hand around her thigh to make sure she straddled him. He was so…_prominent_ underneath her and her mouth watered.

"Shirt off," Mercedes whispered, yanking it over a willing Sam's head. She bit her lip as his well-defined torso greeted her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

"That's my line," he countered, setting his lips and tongue to her collarbone again. But when her hands started for his pants, he immediately gripped her wrist. "No…"

Mercedes hoped she were able to mask her hurt. "What? Why?"

He kissed her nose. "You touch me and I'll be inside you, and I'll be damned if your first time is in a rinky-dink motel bathroom, Mercedes. You deserve so much more of that from me."

"Look at you, all presumptive," Mercedes teased to hide the way her heart raced or the fact her entire body was melting.

"If you think I'm lettin' you get rid of me without a fight, then be ready to be severely disappointed, lady," Sam informed her.

Her smile faded as her earlier conversation with Quinn came rushing back. She frowned and shook her head, preparing to get off him, but Sam's hold on her thigh firmed while the other slipped under her hair to cup the nape of her neck.

"Mercedes?"

"No matter what happens to us, Sam, even if we're only to have a season, promise me you'll still be my friend," she whispered.

"I don't like how you're talking. What do you think will happen to us?"

She shrugged, placing her hands on his chest right about his heartbeat. "When you and your family get back on your feet, and we return to McKinley and you're one of the cool kids at school, just don't forget about me."

"Okay, now I'm confused. One minute we're making out and the next it sounds like you're dumping me—"

"No! God, no!" She kissed his forehead. "I just, I'm sorry, I know I'm doing this 'making out' thing all wrong—"

"It _is_ a little unconventional," Sam admitted.

Mercedes flashed a tiny grin before turning serious again. "But I just need to protect myself before we start crossing lines that can't be recrossed or uncrossed or whatever the term is," Mercedes said, looking back at her hands.

When Sam linked all ten of his fingers through all ten of hers, she smiled a little again, a small part of her becoming settled. "Protect yourself from what, Mercedes?"

Sighing, she gave a brief recount of most of what she'd expressed to Quinn. When she finished, Sam said absolutely nothing, and it was one of the most discomfiting silences she'd ever endured. Having had enough it after at least two minutes had ticked by, Mercedes tried to get up again; but once more, he denied her the opportunity.

"I feel silly now," she mumbled, not looking into his eyes.

"You should," Sam said frankly.

She looked at him, shocked. "You're supposed to disagree and make me feel better!"

"Don't ever ask me to lie to you again, Mercedes," Sam replied, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Humph!" Mercedes gathered her sass and began wrapping it tight around her, starting to scramble off of him. "Then you can just let me go!"

"And don't ever ask me to do that, again, either." Sam frowned even more, arching closer to prevent her movement and so she was forced to look into his eyes. "But above all, never devalue yourself again."

"I—"

"Never again," Sam repeated. "If only you knew how much people respected you, Mercedes. Remember back when we were doing that Night of Neglect benefit and you went _beyond_ diva on us? If that had been anyone else, we would've left them out to dry. But not you, because we like you…and are a little scared of you…"

"I'm not scary," Mercedes muttered even as she pressed her cheek against his, just needing to be close to him.

"Someone who's so confident and put together like you can be scary," Sam said, then he grinned sheepishly. "One of the reasons I didn't approach you for so long—even just with friendship. After Quinn and Santana, I just _knew_ you'd think I was the biggest dork to walk the planet."

"And what makes you think I don't still believe that?" Mercedes teased in his ear.

He laughed and turned his head, brushing their noses together. "But you like me, anyway."

Sam squeezed her fingers and Mercedes took a deep breath. "Sometimes, when I'm in my room and I think about us, I'm amazed that you're with me. I wasn't checking for you….at _all_…and I'm trying to figure out how not to mess this up. How to be enough for you the way I couldn't be with Quinn or Kurt—"

"You know what Mike said when I first told him I had a crush?" Sam interrupted, but he didn't wait for her to respond. "He ticked off all the potentials in glee club, but didn't come up with you until I prodded; and he said he thought you were so above everything…like you were untouchable."

"I think I'm down to earth," Mercedes said, frowning. "You can be a down-to-earth diva."

"You wear your confidence like an armor," Sam said, "you put on this act like nothing can get to you, except, clearly it can. You know, I've noticed you actually rarely talk about yourself unless it has to do with your singing? Only when someone asks you a direct question do you answer."

The revelation surprised her. "I do?"

He nodded. "And you actually don't stick up for yourself that often. Other people, hell yeah; but yourself? You…disengage and let others dictate the relationship."

"I'm not gonna force people to be with me if they don't want to be with me," Mercedes said, shrugging.

"How about letting people know you want them there in the first place?" Sam suggested. "It takes two to make an effort, Mercedes. Letting a relationship lapse could give the impression it hadn't mattered to you at all."

"They mattered," Mercedes said, thinking particularly of Quinn and Kurt, and untangled one of her hands to cup Sam's jaw. "_You_ matter."

"That's good news, because you matter to me, too, and not because of what you do for me and my family. Just because of who you are," Sam said. "And this whole homeless experience has taught me to appreciate and cherish what really matters in this world."

There was no way Mercedes couldn't kiss him after that. "I plan on many seasons with you, Sam Evans."

"Winter, spring, summer, _and_ fall," Sam sang against her lips, putting a twist to the lyrics of the song they'd sung for his siblings all those weeks ago.

She giggled into their next kiss, absorbing his deep chuckle for herself, but then pulled away with a little sadness. "I think I have to go."

Sam nodded but pouted slightly. "I didn't make you come."

She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. "But you made me have a 'Come to Jesus' conversation that I really needed instead, so thank you."

He became very serious all of a sudden. "If all I wanted was that, I would've stayed with Santana," Sam said honestly. "This is not that relationship. This isn't even how it was with Quinn. This is you and me, and I'll always respect that, Mercedes, okay?"

She nodded, and they helped each other straighten up, although Mercedes playfully whimpered when he put his shirt back on. Sam grinned and brushed his lips against her forehead, promising it won't be the last time for such a thing. They left the bathroom and she grabbed her belongings, then they walked hand in hand to her car.

"Never did say thanks for the Doritos and the crackers," Sam said, hugging her close.

"You're welcome. And thank you again, Sam, for everything."

He kissed her softly. "Seasons, Mercedes. You always deserve more than one, lady."

She kissed him goodbye one last time, then hopped in her car and drove off directly for the Hudson-Hummel home.


	7. Sugar for Lemonade

**Title:** Sugar for Lemonade  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When good news really isn't all that good at all.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam truly didn't understand what bittersweet meant until his father had told him he'd finally found a job.<p>

Back in Tennessee.

There was no question of whether his father was taking the job or not; never, but especially in this economy, did one slap God's hand when He presented a blessing. And yet all Sam wanted to do was curse the devil. He had a life here now, one he hadn't expected to love just as much as his old one in his old town, but the ties here felt stronger, more precious.

_His_.

Quinn had found out first because the reverend at church had announced the Evanses' good news. He'd held her as she'd cried about it for fifteen minutes afterward. The next person he'd told was Mike, because Mike _would_ let him curse, rant, and rave without judgment, then distract him with his mother's dim sum and a _Star Trek_ movie marathon.

After that, it'd seemed everyone had found out, and he knew he could thank one of his favorite gossips Tina for letting the news slip. Everyone had called…except Mercedes…and he couldn't bring himself to call her about it, either.

Cowardly, he knew.

His parents had decided to move during the Fourth of July weekend to take advantage of the days off. At the behest of his mother, Sam had done his best to pretend to be happy about the move so Stacy and Stevie could be on board with it as well, but they saw right through the act. Luckily, instead of lashing out, they followed his lead with the silent treatment and helped their parents pack their meager belongings. Most of the glee club had also come to help in any way they could—even if just to entertain Stacy and Stevie for a few moments by playing games or treating them to ice cream. Through it all, however, Mercedes still hadn't shown.

"I'm gonna miss her cookies."

Sam had almost dropped the box he held when he spun around to see Stevie holding a Tupperware container that had yet to be returned to the Jones abode. Stacy's face crumpled and she threw herself onto the bed, sobbing.

"I'm gonna miss Mercedes and Quinn! I don't wanna go!"

Sam set the box on the floor, barely noticing his father taking it in his stead, and gathered his sister into his lap. Stevie came to his side, and the three Evans children mourned.

"Speaking of Mercedes," his mother said after a moment. "Have you told her yet?"

Sam regarded his mother with mild surprise but shook his head. "She has to already know, though."

"That isn't the point. She's been a big help to us and a good…_friend_ to you—you owe her a one-on-one."

Sam shook his head again, wincing at the way his mother had stressed "friend". "I have to help here—"

"Sam," his father said this time. They stared at each other for a moment, understanding clear in his father's blue eyes as he gave the lopsided smile Sam had inherited. "We have to get that Tupperware back to her at some point…"

That had been two days ago, and he still hadn't called. Neither had Mercedes. His mood had grown progressively worse, to the point not even Stacy tried to cheer him up anymore. His parents would shoot him disappointed looks from time to time, but he didn't care. Why hadn't she called him? He'd thought _she'd_ cared!

A knock on the door had Sam rolling his eyes as he finished folding up some of Stevie's clothes. He really didn't want any of the glee club showing up today; it'd been difficult as it was trying to put on a brave face.

"Mercedes!" his mother exclaimed. "Wow! Come in, good to see you—!"

"Mercedes!" Stacy squealed. "Cookies!" Stevie shouted.

"And we were just talking about a Tupperware we found that belongs to you too," his father said with a laugh in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Mercedes said. "It's been crazy at work and I…" Sam heard her voice catch and he finally glanced at her. She was rocking a weeping Stacy and whispering into her ear. Sam's hands began to shake as he finished folding a pair of Stevie's shorts.

"Do you want to talk to Sam alone?" his mother asked.

"Yeah, we're just doing final packing before we ship out on Saturday—"

"Actually," Mercedes said, allowing a small smile in apology for interrupting his father. "I was wondering if you all would come to my house for dinner?"

"Oh, we couldn't—"

"Please, Mrs. Evans," Mercedes implored. "My mother was so surprised about your move, she'd been hoping to get together with you during the summer but this is one of the busiest times of the year for her event planning business…"

"I'm hungry!" Stevie announced.

"You're _always_ hungry!" Stacy shot back.

"Kids! Not in front of guests—"

"She's not _guests_!" Stevie insisted. "She's a friend!"

It was then Mercedes flicked her eyes to Sam, and he refused to break eye contact once she did. "Please come," she said.

"What time?" Sam asked, saying the first words to Mercedes since finding out they were moving a week ago.

"Now?" she said shyly, like a question.

His mother looked at his father. "We could use a break, honey."

"If you were inviting us to dinner, why did you bring the cookies?" Sam asked, almost a little too sharply.

Mercedes' eyes widened even as his mother gasped in surprise, but Mercedes recovered quickly.

"Because today is Thursday," she said simply, "and if you couldn't come, I still wanted you to have them…for the road…"

This Tupperware was large, and it seemed she'd given them all thirty-six cookies this time. Stevie jumped up and down excitedly while Stacy gave Mercedes another hug. His parents had a silent conversation between them, and then they smiled at each other.

"We'd be delighted to have dinner with your family," Mr. Evans said.

"Great! My folks will be so glad!"

Of course, Stacy and Stevie begged to ride with Mercedes to her house, which meant Sam had to ride with them as well. She buckled in Stevie while he buckled in Stacy, and soon they were off for Mercedes' house with his parents bringing up the rear. Mercedes turned down the gospel station that had been on to a low-level buzz. Thank goodness Stevie and Stacy dominated the majority of the conversation, or else it would've been a tense and silent ride.

The dinner, however, was a stark contrast, for it wasn't a dinner at all. Instead, it was a going away party in the Joneses' backyard featuring the members of the glee club, Mr. Schuester, and some parents. The Evans family was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support, so much so that his mother cried into her father's chest. Quinn immediately approached and grabbed his siblings' hands while Mike and Artie dragged him to where the rest of the glee clubbers were. Sam caught Mercedes' eye and she smiled shyly in return before slipping into her role as host.

There was more laughter than tears, though the tributes to Sam were as embarrassing as they were touching. Even Santana made reference to his mouth only once, and fondly at that. Mercedes spoke briefly and kept it chiefly to the Evans family as a whole, but particularly his siblings, and thanked him for trying to teach her how to play the guitar.

"Puck tried…then you…guess I'm not destined to be Slash!" she joked.

"I'm impressed you even know who that is!" Puck teased.

"Bite me, Puckerman," she said on a laugh, and so did everyone else.

"Yum!" Puck said, and even started to chase her humorously.

And even though Sam laughed with the rest at their antics, he couldn't stray from the fact her goodbye was wholly unacceptable.

About an hour later, the party started to wind down, although it was more the adults than the kids. Sam's parents said goodbye with a sleepy Stacy and Stevie in each parent's arms, and panic set inside him.

"I'm not ready to go," he told them, hoping they couldn't hear the desperation in his voice.

"We know. You've yet to talk to Mercedes," Mrs. Evans said.

He peered at her. "Why are you pushing this?"

"You know why," Mrs. Evans answered.

"You owe her at least a proper goodbye. You gave Quinn one, remember?" Mr. Evans reminded her.

"Quinn's special to me, you know that," he mumbled.

His parents just looked at him before his father said, "Try not to stay out too late, or call if you and Mike decide to make a night of it."

"I'm just gonna go ahead and call that," Sam said. "These glee gatherings tend to run long."

"You'll just invite yourself over to the Changs' house?"

"Times like these when standing invites are quite handy," Sam said cheekily.

Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes but kissed her son's forehead. "_Talk to her_," she mouthed when she pulled back, darting her eyes to Mercedes who was chatting with Tina and Lauren.

Yet, he still procrastinated, practically attached himself to Quinn's hip as the glee club sang song after song. Then Quinn grabbed his hand and led him inside the house, and a warning bell went off in his head—especially since she took him upstairs.

"Ah, Quinn—"

"I want to show you something," she interrupted, taking him to a room to the end of the hall. She flicked on the light and approached the bed while Sam hovered in the doorway. It was a blue room, leaning more towards the masculine than the feminine, but the bedding was a neutral blue that somehow made the green in Quinn's eyes pop.

"This is where I stayed when I was pregnant with Beth," she told him, looking around the room with an unreadable expression. "This is where Mercedes would come lie with me whenever I had a really rough night, or where we'd watch old movies through her laptop and giggle like schoolgirls. She'd even sing into my belly because the baby had liked her voice better than mine."

Sam shifted uneasily. "Quinn—"

"You've been looking at her like she's broken your heart, treating her as you treated me and Santana when our relationships ended. Except, this time, this end isn't the girl's fault. It's yours, so you don't get to hold on to your righteous indignation—"

"She could've at least called!" Sam snapped at her. "Come over! She's had a week to do that!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and stood. "Maybe. Or maybe she was trying to figure out how she could face you without bursting into tears."

Sam opened his mouth to retort, then closed it and eyed her. "Wait, what?"

She sighed. "Your siblings talk, Sam."

"But—"

"It's obvious to anyone who pays attention for five seconds how you two feel about each other."

Sam frowned.

"And she told me a few weeks ago…I'd asked her out for coffee…"

"Oh."

Quinn rolled her eyes and shook her head. "She asked me to help her with this going away party for you, along with Mike, Tina, and Kurt. She'd been planning it since she'd found out…and _not_ from you…"

Sam groaned and knocked the back of his head against the doorframe. "I'm an idiot."

"Yep, but you can fix this by not looking at her as if she's committed a crime."

"And talk to her," he added.

"What a crazy concept, that," Quinn teased.

Sam gave her a large hug. "Thank you, Quinn."

"I'm really going to miss you, Sam."

It was difficult trying to talk to someone who refused to be caught alone, though. Mercedes rarely left Kurt or Tina's side the entire night, but Sam waited her out. It was nearing eleven when the only people left at her house were Mike, Tina, Quinn, and himself, and he figured it would have to happen now or not at all.

"We're having a sleepover," Tina told him in a stage whisper while they helped Mercedes clean up the backyard. She was near the house laughing while Mike popped and locked trash into the bag she held.

"Mike too?" he asked.

"No, but the Joneses said you and Mike have to leave by midnight."

"Okay. Thanks."

Tina smiled at him, then gave him a tight hug. "You're a great guy, Sam. Don't forget us once you're back in Tennessee!"

"Impossible," he said sincerely.

It was another ten minutes before Sam finally bucked up the courage to talk to Mercedes. The others had made themselves scarce when Mercedes had gone into the house for more trash bags. He was right at the back door waiting for her when she came back out.

"Sam! Jesus, you scared me!" she exclaimed, then tried to walk around him, but he stepped in her way.

"We need to talk."

Mercedes pulled her lips into her mouth, then pursed them out and shook her head. "No, because I want us to part on good terms, not with you licking your wounds from the cuss out I'm itching to give!"

Sam pulled the trash bags from her hands and spun her around so she'd enter the house again. He followed directly behind her, refusing to let her go far.

"You didn't call me—"

"_You_ didn't call _me_!" Mercedes cut him off. "I had to find out from _Brittany_ of all people!"

Sam winced at that.

"And I said _surely_ this boy doesn't presume _I'm_ going to call! _Surely_, after all these weeks, I could warrant a breakup call—and then I remembered we aren't even officially together!" Mercedes continued to hiss.

"Mer—"

"But then I thought it was a good thing you hadn't called, because I could use that to my advantage. So, yes, I threw this party but I also worked on your birthday gift," Mercedes said, the bite in her voice replaced with uncertainty.

The abrupt change in topic and tone threw him. "My birthday gift?"

"Yes…to celebrate the birthday you'd also _failed_ to mention even when I'd started going over to the motel!"

Sam blushed a little. "I told my parents not to make a big deal out of it this year."

She nodded understandingly. "But I hope you don't mind if I did. Would you believe I'd been trying to figure out what to get you since prom?"

He grinned shyly. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Boy, don't even—wait there," Mercedes said. She was gone for five minutes and returned with a starry gift bag with constellation tissue paper.

"Now, don't open this until you're alone, okay?" Mercedes asked.

"Is it naughty?" Sam asked with more excitement than he probably should have.

Mercedes gave him a weird look, then burst out laughing. "No! Sam!"

His smile was sad. "I'm gonna miss that laugh."

She cupped his jaw and he placed his hand over hers. "I'm going to miss you making me laugh."

He pulled her into a hug. He heard her shuddering breaths and let his hand sweep along her back. It was on the tip of his tongue to say more, but the vibe didn't feel right. So he let his hold say what his tongue couldn't.

"I'm not saying goodbye to you," she said after a few moments.

"Good, because I'm not, either."

He did kiss her, though. Mercedes placed trembling fingers against his cheeks and opened her mouth to let his tongue in. Though it wasn't the first time either had allowed themselves to kiss this deeply, it was more potent than he'd imagined. Eventually, Mercedes ended the kiss and returned her face to his chest, and they remained that way until Mike had said it was time for him and Sam to go. The girls walked them to the door and Sam's throat grew tight as he hugged each of them one last time.

"And you better keep in touch, Trouty!" Tina said in a watery tease. "Or we'll drive down and make Santana go all Lima Heights Adjacent on you!"

"You bet," Sam said, letting his eyes linger on Mercedes until Mike touched his shoulder so they could leave.

The car ride was silent for most of the way, until Sam couldn't bear the anticipation any longer and opened his gift. He laughed at the variety pack of Doritos chips but was shocked when he pulled out a mini mp3 player.

"The whole club chipped in for it," Mike said with a crooked grin. "It has tracks of songs we'd sung in glee—even the rehearsal ones."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, tears threatening. "Y'all…"

"Mercedes suggested giving it to you privately because you don't like big productions…and because it was really awkward when we did something similar last year with Matt and it took us an hour to console each other!"

Sam laughed yet completely understood. He would've liked to have met this Matt Rutherford.

"But, yeah," Mike said, his voice growing rough as he turned the car into the Chang driveway. He killed the engine but didn't make a move to leave. "You mean a lot to us, Sam." His chuckle sounded more like a muffled sob. "I must have some sort of weird Asian curse; all of my best friends seem to move on me!"

Sam hugged Mike tightly, uncaring there was a console between them or it wasn't the manliest hug ever. "You're the best 'best friend' anyone could hope to have, Michael Chang, never a curse!"

They didn't stay up long, both tired and Sam knowing he needed to be rested for final packing day before the move. He'd woken up earlier than his friend, however, and began playing the tracks on the mp3 player. He'd laughed when he heard the entire glee club wish him luck with his move and to never forget them before the songs started to play, and he gave secret thanks to Lauren for having the foresight to record some of their rehearsals. It was easy to pick out Rachel's voice and, surprisingly, Kurt's, but his heart rate would always kick up a notch whenever he heard Mercedes. Hell, it had from the first time he'd ever heard her sing, but he hadn't understood it then.

Breakfast with the Changs was subdued, and he was surprised and humbled by the tight hug Mrs. Chang had given him. Mike decided to drop Sam off first at the motel before getting Tina from Mercedes' house, which relieved Sam. He didn't think he could not say goodbye to Mercedes again.

The day was busy, and he was glad for the mp3 player so he could shut out the world a little as he finished packing. Soon, all that was left was the bedding and a duffel for the essentials they were still using for their last night, and his father decided to treat Stevie and Stacy to Chuck E. Cheese's.

"Sure you don't want to come?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"Positive," Sam said, rolling his eyes but chuckling. "Kinda tired now; just save me a slice, though, yeah?"

Stacy jumped on him as he lay on his cot and he tickled her. "Pepperoni?"

"Perfect," he promised and kissed her cheek.

"We'll call before we come back. You still have some minutes left on the phone?" Mr. Evans asked.

He checked it. "Yeah, thirty."

His parents nodded and left with his siblings. Sam blew out a breath and immediately put in his headphones and turned on the mp3 player. He scrolled through the tracks and frowned when he noticed an album he hadn't seen before. His heart thudding in his chest as he stared at the _Avatar_-esque album cover art, and, his thumb quivering, Sam pressed play.

Mercedes's voice came through the speakers singing "Sunday Kind of Love" and sounding even better than she had when she'd first sung it in this very motel room. When she'd sung it then, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her and had entertained a wild, unlikely hope she'd been singing it for him.

Now, she definitely was, and not just this song, either.

For a little over thirty minutes, Sam listened to Mercedes sing; and by the time last song ended, he had his phone at his ear waiting for her to answer hers.

"Hey, Sam! How can I help you?"

Sam almost cursed. He should've paid better attention to his contact list. "Uh, Kurt? S-sorry, dude! I was trying to get to Mercedes—I-I left something over there—"

"Oh? Like your heart, perhaps?"

Sam froze, then groaned. "Dude…"

"'Ran into each other in the parking lot'—I told Blaine that was a likely story! Of course, I couldn't piece everything together until a few weeks ago when Mercedes told me—can't believe she _waited_ so long—!"

"Kurt! I have limited minutes on the phone and I really need to talk to her—"

"Say no more and don't call her! I'm coming to get you!"

He ended the call before Sam could ask what exactly he meant.

Ten minutes later Kurt was knocking on the door and twelve minutes later he was brushing Sam's hair and bemoaning this was the best he could do on such short notice.

"It wouldn't have mattered how I look because I was gonna call—"

"You don't have a final conversation with the person you love on the phone if you can help it," Kurt admonished.

"Final? I'm not dying!" Sam said, choosing to address that than the other bit of Kurt's comment.

"You're moving—same thing during the teenage years." He sighed heavily. "That's as presentable as you're going to get, but luckily your cuteness overcomes the tragedy that is your outfit."

Sam didn't have time to retort as Kurt yanked him from his seat on the bed. "Come on! Love shall wait no longer, especially with Mercedes' parents on their date night—and mine too. I have to meet Blaine in fifteen at Breadstix!"

Sooner than Sam thought was probably legal, Kurt was all but frog-marching him to the Joneses' front door. Mercedes' confusion was adorable as she answered the doorbell.

"Hey, Sam, I was going through the lost and found pile and I didn't see anything of yours, but…" She handed Kurt a belt, which made the other boy blush furiously. "I don't want to know, so don't tell me."

"Yes, well, I was looking all over for that…goes perfectly with this ensemble…" Kurt said on an embarrassed laugh, then perked up immediately. "I have to run! Be a doll and drop Sam back off at the motel, 'Cedes? Kisses!"

"What are you talking about?" Mercedes almost yelled, looking around Sam as Kurt jumped into his ride and backed out of the driveway. "The motel is on the way to the damn—!"

Sam hugged her close, amused but not wanting to waste precious time hearing them argue, and buried his face into her hair. "I didn't lose anything."

Mercedes squeezed her arms around him briefly then pulled back and let him inside. "I don't understand. Kurt sent me a text saying he was coming over with you because you left something."

"I did," Sam said, almost hovering over her as he followed her into the house.

"What? Maybe I can help you find it." She started for the back door but he wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and kissed the shell of her ear.

"Got it," he whispered.

She laughed a little nervously. "What?"

"My heart."

She clutched his arm at her waist and he felt her tremble. "Sam…"

"I'm goin' back to Tennessee, but I'm leavin' home, because home is where the heart is; and my heart is you," he breathed in her ear.

She bit back a soft sob. "Sam—"

He turned her around and framed her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were falling. "I lo—"

She immediately put her hand over his mouth and started shaking her head. "Don't say that to me."

That brought him up short and he gently pulled her hand from his mouth. "What? Why?" Sam asked, frowning. "You sang it to me in eight different ways with that beautiful voice of yours—wait, you want me to sing it? We can go through your iTunes—"

She hid her face behind her hands and shook her head again, but Sam tangled their fingers together and pulled them away. "Lady, Mercedes, don't cry! Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm mad! I'm _pissed_!" Mercedes yelled. "You aren't supposed to be here!"

Sam became even more confused. "Why?"

"You weren't supposed to have found that album until you were halfway to Tennessee…if ever! I didn't even label it—it was supposed to be like one of those Easter eggs you like to find when you watch DVDs, Sam…"

He chuckled; he couldn't help it, and led her over to the couch in her living room. He sat down first, then tugged on her hand until she straddled him. He cupped her hip and nibbled her bottom lip.

"You know how good I am at finding those things, Mercedes," he whispered against her lips.

She kissed his forehead. "Perhaps…"

He gently bit her jaw. "But you were just gonna let me leave without telling me how you felt?"

"I'm not one of those clingy girlfriends," she said even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently.

"I don't mind you clingin' to me," Sam whispered, moving his kisses down her neck as he made her grind into him. "I'm never lettin' go of you."

The kisses intensified and his shirt disappeared. Mercedes ran her cheek against his pecs while he fiddled with the back catch of her bra underneath her shirt.

"We shouldn't," she muttered around his nipple, her fingers caressing. Sam threw his head back against the couch and groaned.

"You're right, but let me at least touch 'em, _please_!" Sam grunted, and slid his hands to her front to begin sneaking them underneath the cups of her bra.

"Okay, but that's it! If my parents catch us and—"

"Damn it!" Sam exclaimed and yanked his hands from her. "My family's probably due back any moment!"

She scrambled off of him and he immediately missed the glorious weight of her. He checked his phone and noticed the missed message and then the text. He replied quickly, glad only two minutes had passed since he'd received the text.

Mercedes looked deliciously disheveled and flushed, and he could do nothing but grasp her by the neck and bring her into another tender kiss. Her hands found their way to his bare stomach, teasing his abs, and he moaned, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

"None of that now, lady," he crooned into her neck. "Especially when I don't have time to return the favor."

"Got to; I can kiss you through the phone, but not touch you," she said with a pout.

He put his shirt back on and they managed to get to the motel before his family did. Though they both got out of her car, Sam refused to let her walk him to the door.

"I can't come to see you off tomorrow," she said sadly, running her hands along his chest, then his arms. "Work."

"Probably for the best," Sam said, kissing her forehead and holding her hands to the space right above his heart. "I don't think I'd leave if I saw you."

Mercedes took a very deep breath, standing on her tiptoes to brush her nose against his. "Gimme a kiss so I can go."

"And again, you using kissing as a threat," Sam teased right before giving her the softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever given a girl. He then kissed her eyes, and the two tears that fell down her cheeks, and returned to her mouth.

"But one more thing before you leave," he whispered against her lips, and then he began to sway and hum. Mercedes smiled shyly at him, holding him tightly about the waist. He then began to sing "You've Got a Friend" with Mercedes doing light harmony. He never wanted the song to end; because once it did, she would leave.

"I love you so much, Mercedes," he murmured gruffly against her lips when he finished singing.

She sniffled. "I told you not to say it…"

"But you deserve to hear it," he told her, drifting his nose along her cheek so he could speak into her ear. "You deserve to hear how much you mean to me. We spent a lot of time not talking this past week, and what a waste that was. These few moments we have left together, you need to know you are my heart and I love you, okay?"

She was quiet for a while, nuzzling his jaw, and then she pulled away. Sam saw no tears, just acceptance of what was. "I love you too," she whispered, cupping his cheek for a moment before getting into her car and driving off.

They'd kept their promise of not saying goodbye to each other, but Sam couldn't shake away how it felt like one.

* * *

><p><em>Txe'lan rol nga<em> (_My Heart Sings You_) Track Listings

"Sunday Kind of Love", Etta James  
>"Someone to Watch over Me:, Ella Fitzgerald<br>"Fourth of July", Mariah Carey  
>"What a Diff'rence a Day Made", Dinah Washington<br>"Breathe", Faith Hill  
>"Angel", Anita Baker<br>"Make You Feel My Love", Adele  
>"You've Got a Friend", Carole King<p> 


	8. Before Bedtime

**Title:** Before Bedtime  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mercedes gets sleepy on the phone, but Sam doesn't mind too much.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Mercedes?"<p>

"Hmm."

"You sleepin'?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You sound sleepy."

"I'mna sleepy, Sam, go on."

"You're so sleepin'. You always fall asleep. Are you…am I boring to you?"

Mercedes squeezed her shut eyes tighter and clutched the pillow to her chest, wishing it were Sam instead. "No, baby, just, I talk to you when I'm bed and I love your voice. Wish I could just curl all in it."

There was no response for a moment. "I wish I were in bed with you too."

Mercedes' breath caught in her throat, and then she giggled into the pillow. "Not exactly what I meant."

"That's exactly what _I_ mean," Sam returned. "We have space and I have my own room now, but I can't use it to my full advantage because you're six hours away from me."

Mercedes closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It'd been a month since Sam and his family had moved, and the transition had been harder on her than Mercedes cared to admit. Sure, it was business as usual with working at the bridal shop; and she'd even actually started performing gigs with Artie and Santana of all people during Thursday happy hours at a local restaurant. But her days, especially Thursdays, would always feel incomplete because she didn't have to go to the motel anymore and she didn't have anyone for whom to bake cookies.

Well, that wasn't entirely true; Kurt and Finn merely liked their cookies on Sundays.

"Well, you said you were going to try to come up for Labor Day, right?" Mercedes reminded him.

"Too fuckin' far away," Sam cursed, and Mercedes clenched her thighs together at the way his deep voice rumbled over the swear word. "I miss you, lady."

"I miss you too." Speaking to or texting each other every night didn't mitigate that in the slightest. Part of her _had_ been trying to tell Sam goodbye the last time they'd seen each other, but Sam had called her bluff that next night.

"I thought we weren't saying goodbye to each other," he'd said with an undercurrent of irritation, not even returning the hello of her initial greeting.

She'd sucked her teeth and donned her sass, her heart racing despite her bravado. "Boy! Did you _hear_ me _say_ goodbye, Sam Evans?"

"I listen to more than your words, Mercedes Jones," he'd told her.

And deep inside, Mercedes had known that. In fact, it had surprised her how often they'd had entire conversations with nothing but looks when they'd first become real friends. The only other persons with whom she'd had such an immediate connection like that had been Kurt and Tina. But it'd always felt different with him, especially since prom.

"Sam," she'd asked him, her vulnerability peeking through despite herself, "isn't this too soon? Aren't we too young for this?"

"Probably," Sam had admitted. "But I'm willin' to ride it out if you are."

She was.

Mercedes sighed to squelch a yawn, returning to the present conversation. "I can't believe school's almost here."

"Yeah, feels like no time at all has passed—and it sucks because it starts earlier here in Nashville. I go to school in less than two weeks!" Sam groaned.

"Poor baby," Mercedes cooed.

"It's not gonna be the same without the glee club," Sam muttered. "And I _hate_ being the new kid all over again!"

"I don't think you have to worry about that—one shot of the Justin Bieber Experience and you'll have at least the girls all over you."

"Who has time for girls when I have a lady on my arm?" Sam asked, pitching his voice low.

"Good answer, Evans," Mercedes answered on a laugh.

"But…you liked the Justin Bieber Experience?"

Mercedes flipped on her back and sighed, making sure her Bluetooth remained in her ear. "It was corny as hell, don't get me wrong, but I have to admit…you were kind of adorable."

"I was completely adorable."

Mercedes rolled her eyes even though she secretly agreed. "I tried not to pay attention; you were with Quinn, remember?"

"Yeah," Sam said, then huffed out a laugh. "I started it to keep her, you know, but_ that_ didn't work…"

"It would've worked for me, hell," Mercedes said on a snort. "That's how Puck got me—had the audacity to sing me Sammy Davis, Jr."

"How dare he?" Sam teased, and Mercedes laughed.

"It was really sweet, actually," she admitted. "Never thought a guy would sing to me, but it was nice."

"Hold that thought," Sam said, and she heard shuffling on his end of the line. Mercedes fought to keep her eyes open while he did so. Nashville was an hour behind Lima, so while it was only half past ten for him, she was thirty minutes away from midnight and had to go to work the next morning.

The strumming of guitar strings drew her lids up and she frowned. "Sam?"

"I want to sing for you," he said. "Can I?"

"Like I'mma say no," Mercedes said lazily, though a smile formed across her face; and it grew even wider when she recognized the opening bars of the song.

While Sam didn't have the rasp and grit Bill Withers had, his rendition of "Ain't No Sunshine" made her tingle nonetheless. He sang as if he'd written the song himself, full of passion and meaning, that she wished he were there so she could tackle him with a kiss.

"You were amazing, but I must remind you the song is abouta man who's in love with a woman who does him dirty," she mumbled, her eyes drooping closed.

"I'd love for you to do me dirty…"

Mercedes snickered, completely tickled by the dorky double entendre even as she crossed her legs when the tingle appeared between them. She blamed it on sleepiness and not the fact she knew he was very genuine about his desire.

"My adorkable Sammy. What am I gon' do with you?" she slurred.

"Love me," he said seriously, and she opened her eyes to the ceiling.

"Oh, baby, I do. So much, you have no idea."

"I do. I listen to my album every night before I go to bed. Right now my favorite track is 'Angel'," he said, and he made a self-conscious sound that tripped her heart.

"That was one of my favorites too," she confessed. She'd had to record that particular track four times just to get through it without breaking into tears.

"I can't believe you feel that way about me, Mercedes," he whispered. "I can't believe how lucky I am."

"I'm the lucky one," she insisted. "That you're willing to be with me even still even though we're not together—"

"I don't have to be in the same space with you to be with you, Mercedes," Sam said.

"It's not the same…"

"No," he agreed. "Because telling you I love you isn't the same as showing you, and I wish I'd had the chance to show you before I left."

"You did, every time you looked at me, or held me. I tried to deny it," she murmured.

"I meant what I said about worshipping your body," he added, his voice pitched even lower than before. "And just…I miss the way you feel in my arms."

She moaned unintentionally, for his voice tugged at the space between her legs in a way that was unexpectedly delicious.

"Jesus, 'Cedes," he whispered. "The sounds you make…"

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't—"

"I wanna make you do that again," he groaned. "Tell me what to say so you can do it again."

"I don't know," she mumbled even though she was now much more awake than she had been. And she wasn't being entirely truthful, either. She did know; embarrassment prevented her from admitting it.

"Do you want me to tell you I love how soft your skin is?" he asked, his breathing growing heavy. "How I wish I could touch it right now?"

Were they actually doing this? Was she actually running her hand along her stomach underneath her sleep camisole imagining it was Sam's large, slightly calloused hand, courtesy of his guitar and football playing?

"I wish I could touch you too," she gasped. "I love touching you. You're so hard and firm."

"Lady, you have no idea how hard I am right now," he breathed raggedly.

"I'm mad you never let me touch you there," she said, her tone sharper from lust and latent frustration than she'd thought it would be.

"God!"

"You touched me but I couldn't touch you," Mercedes continued though his shout turned her on even more. "I wanted—I've never seen one before."

"I told you, you deserved better than that motel," Sam said.

"I don't care about that, just you," Mercedes said. "You always make me feel beautiful, Sam."

"That's because you _are_," Sam stressed. "And I want everything about our first time to be beautiful—including the surroundings. Nothing less will do, Mercedes."

He was so adamant that Mercedes sighed and conceded. "Fine, Sam, but does everything have to be beautiful for fooling around?"

He chuckled. "No, but I need time to do everything I want to do with you, and that was something we didn't have—that and privacy."

She licked her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. "What do you want to do with me?"

"Ah…"

"Sam?"

"I, Jesus, 'Cedes!"

"Can I say what I want to do with you?" Mercedes offered, feeling bold and not sleepy at all now.

"I don't think I can handle it," he said roughly.

"Please, Sam," she implored. "I think, if I admit it, it'll be easier for me to _do_ it once we're together again—"

"Wait, what? 'Do it'—do you—d'you mean _do it_?"

"I…" Mercedes didn't think she was ready for that step intellectually; but the way her body reacted to Sam made her realize that was probably more of an inevitability than a mere possibility.

"Maybe not the _immediate_ next time," she ultimately said. Sam groaned and she giggled. "Disappointed?"

"I want to be with you right now," Sam whined.

"Me, too, because then I could run my hands all over that hard chest of yours," Mercedes said, feeling a surge of power at the plaintive tone to his voice.

"I love your hands…and your lips. Fuck, 'Cedes, you have the best mouth."

There was a sudden rush of wetness in her panties. "I love it when you nibble on me," she told him.

"You're tasty as hell. Wanna taste you everywhere…"

It was her turn to groan.

"Yeah, you'd like me to do that?" he asked her, almost mockingly.

"Sam…"

"And I do mean _everywhere_…like your boobs. They're fantastic, you know."

She was torn between self-consciousness and self-confidence. "You think?"

"_Rocky Horror_, Mercedes. You in that corset, Jesus…"

"And you in those gold booty shorts. Packin' some heat there, Sammy," Mercedes returned.

"You noticed me since then?"

Mercedes laughed. "I'm friends with Kurt; I had no choice but to notice you."

"Oh."

"But I thought you were a cutie," she revealed.

"The first time I _noticed_ you was when you sang with Santana," he said. "You were so sexy."

"Really?"

"Totally understand why Puck calls you sexy mama," he said, "even if I don't actually like he's calling _my woman_ sexy…"

"And yet you dated Santana," Mercedes sniffed.

"She propositioned me. And, sorry, Mercedes, nobody really says no to Santana."

"Fair point," she acknowledged.

"And in a way…you propositioned me too—"

"Sam!"

"You did!" He laughed. "You were cute though."

"I was so sure you'd say no," she said. "I mean, after Quinn and Santana and the way I spoke to you—"

"Santana was barely nice to me the entire time we were together," Sam told her. "And you're a cool girl, Mercedes. Beautiful, talented, smart. Yeah, you can be a diva, but you're rarely ever mean about it unless you think it's warranted, not just because you're bored."

"If you were here with me, I'd kiss you for that," she said.

"If you were here, I'd kiss and nibble all over you, starting with your collarbone. I love your collarbone."

She placed her hand there. "Really? Why?"

"Because it's the halfway point to your neck and to your boobs," Sam said with a light chuckle.

Mercedes burst out laughing and had to slap her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God, Sam!"

"And then I'd move down to your boobs, though, because we didn't get properly acquainted as I'd wanted…"

"Your hands were busy between my legs," Mercedes murmured.

"Jesus, _yes_," Sam moaned. "Wish they were there now."

"Sam…"

"And my mouth…"

Mercedes squeaked.

"That was the one time Santana didn't complain about my trouty mouth—"

Mercedes tried to be annoyed about him bringing up another girl while discussing this, but she was too busy imagining him giving her similar treatment and her brain short-circuited.

"So she liked it?" she asked on a heavy breath.

He paused. "Maybe I shouldn't talk about—"

"No! Because if _Santana_ liked it—"

"But you're not Santana, Mercedes," Sam said. "You're a different person, so you may not like that."

Mercedes grunted. "I'd beg to differ."

"You never have to beg me to make you happy, Mercedes," Sam said seductively. "But you'd…like me to do that?"

Her legs were restless, and unbeknownst to her, her fingers found the place where she vividly imagined his mouth to be. "Yes," she gasped.

"Fuck," he whispered. "I'd love to do that…"

"Yeah?"

"Yes, 'Cedes, God—"

"I'd want to try with you too," she confessed, her tongue wetting her bottom lip as she touched herself. "I want everything with you, baby."

He made a strangled sound into the phone. "I can feel your pretty lips around me, Mercedes."

"Oh, damn," she gasped, her fingers moving furiously. "Sam—"

"And your hands are running up and down my chest," he rasped. "They feel so good. You feel so…"

She let out a tiny sob, slightly embarrassed but very thrilled to hear his fantasy of her pleasing him. That and the slick sounds coming from his end of the connection had Mercedes throwing her head back and letting out a soft, deep moan.

"God, you made that sound around me and I'm so close, lady," Sam whispered. "Jesus."

"Me too," she told him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She could hear the squishy sounds she made and wondered if Sam could as well. Her legs began shaking uncontrollably and she groaned.

"_Yes_! C'mon, 'Cedes, come on!" Sam panted.

"Sam!"

"'Cedes!"

She turned her face into her pillow as her body arced from the bed. The Bluetooth fell from her ear, but her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears she wouldn't have been able to hear Sam if it had stayed in place. She snatched air into her lungs as if she'd just run a half marathon in five minutes, and her heart beat so fast it almost hurt. Her body still shuddered from the force of her climax, and she reached onto her nightstand for a tissue to clean off her hand.

A tinny sound caught her ear, and she gasped and replaced the Bluetooth in her ear. "Sam?"

"Yeah…" He sounded very winded. "Thought you hung up."

"No, I, erm, lost the Bluetooth."

They listened to each other breathe for a while. "If I were there with you, I'd be cuddling you now," Sam eventually murmured.

She looked down at the pillow that had somehow managed to make it back into her arms and laughed softly. "If the way I'm clutching my pillow is any indication, I'd be cuddling you as well."

"I hate this," he muttered.

"I love you," she returned quietly.

"_Nga txe'lan si nga yawne lu oer_," he replied just as softly.

"I don't know what you said, but it sounded pretty," Mercedes said, her eyes starting to droop again. Unsurprisingly, she was even sleepier now than earlier.

He chuckled. "I said you are my heart and I love you."

Mercedes grinned on a yawn and sank deeper into the bedding. "Can you talk me to sleep, Sam?"

"_Na txe'lan neu_," he said. "As my heart desires."

The last thing Mercedes remembered before falling asleep was Sam reading panels of a _Green Lantern_ comic in Matthew McConaughey's voice.


	9. Starlight

**Title:** Starlight  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 1835  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam's horrific sunny day turns into a beautiful, starry night.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> I'm aware of some of the spoilers regarding the ages/grades of the characters, but I wrote this before the spoilers were released; and this whole series is one big AU after _Glee_ 2x22 anyway, so, yeah...that explains some fanfic!authorial decisions henceforth. Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam sat on the front steps of the rented home his family lived in and ran a weary hand through his freshly cut hair. It was now his more natural dirty blond than the lemon-juiced golden locks of before; yet for some reason, he felt much more settled despite the day he'd had.<p>

Or maybe because Nashville night sounds soothed a troubled mind too.

He'd gone to his new high school to register and sign up for classes with his parents; but the meeting had been too long and even less productive. His grades weren't the strongest from junior year, obviously, so all of the classes the counselor had suggested he take were either remedial or classes he'd already taken—and passed—at McKinley.

"We believe in excellence here," the guidance counselor had said. "We also believe in realistic expectations. This is the level at which your son will have the greatest chances of success."

Never before had he been called a dumbass so professionally.

His parents had been appalled, though those who didn't know them well would've never been able to tell. His father's mouth had gotten very tight while his mother's eyes had grown almost imperceptibly wider even as she'd asked him to take Stacy and Stevie out in the hallway.

"It's a pretty school," Stacy had observed. Sam had nodded noncommittally. It was one of the best high schools in the city and possibly even the state, but it wasn't his school back in Memphis, which was also a top academic school, and it certainly wasn't McKinley.

It _was_, however, bullshit.

His parents had been very quiet as they'd left the school and during lunch at the local sandwich shop, which had been dominated by Stacy and Stevie's arguing. That his parents hadn't thought to chastise them told Sam the discussion with the counselor hadn't improved once the kids had left at all. In fact, they hadn't approached him about it until after they'd put Stacy and Stevie to bed.

"This is your senior year," his father had said as they sat around the cleared kitchen table. Sam hadn't realized how much he'd missed his mother's cooking until he'd scarfed down two helpings of turnip greens…and he _hated_ turnip greens.

"I know," Sam had muttered, reclining in the chair and shoving his thumbs in his jeans pockets.

"Junior and senior years are the most important in high school…and college," his father had continued.

Sam had scoffed. "According to that guidance counselor, I shouldn't even bother—"

"Stop it," Mrs. Evans had chastised. "You did well enough at your old school; and last year was…chaotic…"

It'd been on the tip of his tongue to demand his parents tell him something he didn't know, but he'd managed to refrain.

"Your mother and I are going to discuss…options…before it's too late to do anything, but you're not going to essentially repeat your junior year—"

"Maybe it's for the best," Sam had said with a shrug. "Things still aren't as stable as they could be. Maybe college should be put on hold—"

"That is a last resort, and we're not there yet," Mrs. Evans had said firmly, and she'd cupped Sam's face. "We'll figure out something, sweetheart."

He'd been outside since then, almost an hour, trying to think of options that wouldn't make his family sacrifice more than it'd already had. Maybe it _was_ time he bit another bullet or two.

His pocket buzzed and he checked the caller ID on his cellphone. A tiny smile formed on his face and he answered the call.

"Good evening, lady," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Are you all right?" Mercedes immediately asked.

"Ye—" he halted the lie and sighed, not even surprised she'd seen through the initial one. Mercedes had an impeccable bullshit meter. "Today was major in suckage."

She made a long kissing sound through the phone. "I hope that took some away."

"It did," he confirmed with a bigger grin. "Though the thought of you does that anyway," Sam admitted.

"You're such a charmer," she said on a laugh. "One of the reasons I love you."

His smile faded and he squeezed his eyes against the sudden stinging that appeared. "I needed to hear that, Mercedes."

"Baby, always," she promised. "Whose ass I need to kick?"

His chuckle was faint and derisive. "Mine, for being so dumb."

"Oh, I'll kick your ass, all right, but mainly for calling yourself dumb!" Mercedes said. "You're not dumb, Sam Evans!"

"The school system here thinks I am," he countered bitterly.

"Oh, _hell_ to the no!" Mercedes exclaimed. "I _know_ they ain't call _my man_ dumb!"

He imagined her marching back and forth in her room, her eyes focused and glaring as her mind plotted various ways of death for the offending party. He'd seen that look at it was a bit frightening, and he was glad it wasn't directed at him.

"My parents aren't too thrilled, either," Sam muttered.

"Because _you're not dumb_!" Mercedes all but snarled. "Just because you're not the world's strongest reader or speller doesn't mean your _comprehension_ skills aren't good! Damn! Yeah, you're not Mike or Artie, but you're _damn sure_ not Finn!"

Sam laughed despite himself. "Finn's not that bad."

"I love Finn dearly, but he has his moments and you know it," Mercedes said, though some of her bluster faded.

"I've had some of mine. Remember Mr. Schue had to teach me how to tie my shoelaces."

"You had problems with the double-knot, Sam; that's not exactly the same thing."

He laughed lightly again. "You're determined not to let me sulk about this, are you?"

"Yep," Mercedes said unapologetically. "Besides, you know a lot of things I bet those blowhards at the school don't know—like _Na'vi_."

"Na'vi isn't a real language—"

"It's real to me," Mercedes said quietly. "My heart knows 'I love you' in any tongue, Sam Evans."

"_Oe neu ne lu hu nga_," Sam said. "I want to be with you."

"You are," she replied, her voice even softer. "Not a minute that goes by when I don't think about you." She laughed humorlessly. "And to think I'd rolled my eyes at that being possible. It sucks working at that damn bridal shop sometimes, gets me imagining—"

Sam closed his eyes at the way his heart thudded in his chest, his mind filling in the words she'd abruptly stopped. To know she'd been thinking of them beyond high school…_long-term_ thoughts was a heady thing. He'd always had a bad habit of doing that, though strangely, the only time he hadn't was when he'd been with Santana. But for all the affection he'd had for Quinn, she'd always been stuck on the short-term goal of prom. His father had always cautioned him on being too serious about relationships at too young of an age, but he was his mother's child when it came to love. When it clicked, it clicked. And unlike with Quinn, he didn't have to force the mutuality of it with Mercedes.

"I just freaked you out, didn't I?" she muttered, drawing him from his thoughts.

Sam opened his eyes and looked overhead at the sky. He found the Summer Triangle and fixated on Vega. He then shifted his eyes from the east to the north and found Polaris, the North Star.

"I know Rachel is the star of glee club, Mercedes, but you're _my_ star, my North Star. Whenever I feel lost or adrift, I can think of you and feel righted again," he said.

"Sam…"

"And the star never sets in this hemisphere, did you know that, Mercedes?" he asked, standing and walking a few steps down the walk. He was glad their house was in a neighborhood that allowed for a decent view of the sky. That was one of few things he'd appreciated about the motel—clear sky views. "I'm never not thinking of you, either, so…yeah…you're my guiding light, lady…" And completely unconsciously, he began singing "Bella Notte" all the while staring at Polaris and thinking about his sparkling midnight lady. He even swayed, pretending she was with him, hearing Puck's accordion and Mike and Artie's harmonies in his head. When he finished, there was silence on the other end, and he felt fire explode all over his face.

"Ah—"

"Rachel's an idiot with shitty timing," Mercedes said flatly.

"What?"

"No way in the hell am I not kissing you if you'da sung that to _me_ in New York!"

His smile was wide and relieved. "Really?"

"Boy, if we were together right now, I woulda been tackled you!"

"I think I suddenly know why Puck is so fond of Lauren right now," Sam said, anticipating the day Mercedes would.

"And Lauren is badass."

"That too."

"How far away is Labor Day?" she whined.

"Too damn far," he murmured lowly.

"I hate this almost as much as I love you," Mercedes said.

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet proudly, still staring at the Little Dipper's brightest star. "I love you too."

"And you are _not_ dumb, so don't ever fix your mouth to say that foolishness again!"

"Yes, ma'am!'

Mercedes laughed at his affected Tennessee drawl. "I know you were kidding there, but I have to say I'm loving the deepened Southern accent you have now, Sam. I noticed traces of it when I hung around your family, but now it's _so_ there."

"It's like slippin' into a favorite pair of shoes," Sam said.

"I want to visit there one day," she told him.

"It's not Memphis, because I think you'd enjoy the music there a bit more, but it's still amazing," Sam said, now pacing in the meager front yard and staring at his feet. "I've taken your advice and started some gigs down here. Actually have some good responses."

"Again, am I supposed to be surprised?" Mercedes asked.

He laughed and shook his head. "I suppose not, then."

"You're catching on, Evans," she said, and he imagined her gorgeous smile.

"Because I'm not dumb."

"Say it again!"

"I'm _not_ dumb!" Sam crowed, pumping his fist in the air.

"But you're mine," Mercedes said. "Which proves how smart you are to managing getting a woman like me!"

"Perspective, I has it," he deadpanned.

Mercedes laughed and made another kissing sound. "I'm going to bed now, baby. I promised to meet Rachel and Kurt for breakfast tomorrow morning and I have to be at the shop by nine still."

"Have a good night, Mercedes," he said. "And thank you…for everything."

"Of course, baby. I'm always here for you—we all are. You still have your glee family, remember rhat."

When the call ended, Sam stood straighter, buoyed by Mercedes's words.

He was ready to kick senior year's ass.


	10. Prescient Matters

**Title:** Prescient Matters  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee Club, Evans Family  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mercedes isn't as prepared for the unexpected as she thought she was.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and slightly naughty deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Auditions in the auditorium, Weezy, don't forget!" Santana had reminded Mercedes as they passed each other in the halls during school.<p>

She'd rolled her eyes yet nodded in acknowledgment. Like last year, there was hardly a throng of people to try out for glee club; and like last year, Mercedes didn't give a flying fig about that. As drama filled as the club could be, she liked its current dynamic of crazy, and new people could upset that delicate balance in very not-good ways.

Then she'd remembered had the glee club not auditioned new members last year, she probably would have never met Sam.

She missed him now more than ever, wondering how barely one full week into the school year everything felt so urgent and never-ending. They could never talk for long in the evenings; and the past week they'd resorted to text messaging as their primary mode of communication. Even then, Sam seemed far more distracted than normal, always asking Mercedes to repeat whatever she'd just said. Two nights ago she'd gotten so frustrated she'd just stopped talking to him and hadn't since then, not even bothering to read his texts or answer his calls. Now that her initial irritation was gone, however, she ached for him, something she'd never thought she'd do for any man. Nevertheless, she knew he was still coming up for Labor Day; Mike had put that announcement in big, bold, and underlined text in his Labor Day Barbecue Evite for Sunday.

"'Cedes!"

Classes were letting out for the long holiday, but Mercedes turned away from the exit to meet where Tina, Lauren, and Quinn were waiting by a bank of lockers. Quinn hooked her arm through Mercedes' and Mercedes bumped her shoulder against the blonde.

"Puck said the signup list looked anemic," Lauren said as they began walking to the auditorium. "But whatever."

"We don't need 'em," Tina said. "This year we'll be awesome—"

"And better prepared," Quinn interjected.

"For a change," Lauren muttered, and they entered the auditorium. Rachel was already at the front talking Mr. Schue's ear off with Brittany looking lost and Santana looking bored.

"We really should give preference to male voices, Mr. Schue; since Sam's no longer with us—"

"And Kurt doesn't count," Santana added.

Rachel glared briefly at Santana before continuing. "It is imperative we have a balance of high and low voices in order to create the proper aural tapestry for my solos during competitions."

"We beat them last year, Rachel. We can totally beat them again," Brittany encouraged.

"Hey, guys!" Mr. Schue said, looking more relieved than excited at their appearance. "Ready for the auditions?"

"Can't wait to see all two people who signed up!" Lauren said with faux anticipation.

"And they better be worth the five minutes I'm sacrificing or I'mma get all Lima Heights up in here!" Santana threatened, coming up to where the rest of them were with Brittany and Rachel in tow.

"Where are the boys?" Rachel demanded.

"Artie said they had to give a pep talk," Brittany replied. "I don't blame them; I'd be nervous singing to nobody too."

"We're not nobodies!" Tina insisted.

"Yeah, we kinda are—"

"Santana," Mr. Schue said on a sigh. "Not exactly the sales pitch we're going for."

"But, this is good—this is _good_," Rachel predicted. "This means they are males auditioning or else why would they need the boys to pump them up?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and dropped her head back. She just wanted to get this over with so she could go home and not call Sam.

Quinn chuckled and rested her head on Mercedes' shoulder. "It won't be that bad, Mercedes."

"One of us has to keep the faith," Mercedes muttered back.

"All right!" Mr. Schue said again, as if to mask their indifference. "Ready when you are, guys!"

At first, no one appeared on the stage, garnering confused looks between the girls; then Stacy and Stevie rushed out from the wings, and the girls immediately gave them a standing ovation.

"Did you know about this?" Mercedes asked Quinn in between her cheers.

"Not at all," Quinn said, her smile so wide it almost blinded Mercedes.

When Sam and the rest of the glee boys appeared behind Sam's siblings, the girls went berserk. He might not like his new school, but Tennessee had done Sam some good. Mercedes loved his new short cut with his natural dirty blond locks on display and he'd definitely gained back some of the weight he'd lost. She saw Sam blush under the stage lights and he fiddled with his guitar to wait for the embarrassment to pass. Puck played a melody, nodding to an apprehensive Stevie while Stacy had no such qualms and began to sing.

"Ohimgod, this is my favorite song," Brittany breathed and immediately went into the hand motions for "Skidamarink". The rest of the glee girls followed suit, emboldening Stevie who continued performing with gusto now. Mike did some deceptively complicated dance steps behind Stevie and Stacy while Finn hopped around like an elephant with no rhythm whatsoever. Eventually, Rachel made a beeline for the stage to join in with the others, and the rest of the girls followed. They began making up verses and more dance steps even as Stacy ran up to Mercedes and demanded her hug.

"Did you like the song? I picked it!" Stacy proclaimed once singing stopped and squeezed Mercedes' neck.

"I loved it! Oh, I missed you guys!" she told them, bending down so Stevie could slap her hand.

"My turn!" Quinn demanded, and Stacy happily went into the other girl's arms.

There were more hugs and welcomes all around. The glee girls fawned all over Sam as if he were a rock star, well, except for Mercedes and Quinn. They were too busy listening to all the stories Stacy and Stevie were telling them about their new house and new school.

"The teacher brought in cookies on the first day, but they weren't as good as yours," Stevie complained, but then he brightened. "Do you have any cookies, Mercedes?"

"Fresh out, but I'll figure out a way to get them to you, okay?" she promised.

"Yes!" Stevie cheered and bounced around in anticipation.

"Hey, you two, quit hoggin' Quinn and 'Cedes!" Sam said even as he came up and hugged them with one arm each. "Missed y'all," he said, giving them a kiss to the cheek.

"You, too, Sam—hey! No running like that you two! Could fall and bust yo' head wide open!"

The siblings immediately stopped their horseplay and the entire club looked between them and Mercedes.

"Damn, Mercy, did you just bust out the 'mama' voice or what!" Artie exclaimed after a moment.

"Seriously, that was really creepy," Puck agreed, then arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Hot too."

"Almost made _me_ stop running and I've just been standing here!" Mr. Schue teased, and the rest of the club laughed.

"I'm going to find a rock to crawl under and die now," Mercedes muttered, hiding her face in her hands as she turned toward the wings of the stage. Quinn laughingly pulled her back and linked their arms again.

"Too cute," Quinn said and kissed her cheek.

"Sorry, Sam," Mercedes apologized under her breath.

"Dunno, gotta agree with Puck on the 'hot' part," he replied softly with a surreptitious wink and stroke of her hand before scooping Stevie up and giving him a slight tickle. Mercedes felt Quinn's eyes boring a hole in her head and she held up her hand against it.

"Don't even!"

The blonde just hugged her arm and laughed.

They all went to Breadstix for dinner with Blaine, Mike's, and Sam's parents attending. They'd taken all the tables in the back because of the size of their party, and Stacy had demanded she sit between Mercedes and Quinn. There was nonstop talking from just about everyone; and after all the plates had been removed by the servers, Mike tapped on his water glass with a spoon.

"Sam has an announcement!" he declared.

"Ah, yeah," Sam said, standing slowly and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets again. "Just wanted to say thank y'all again for the warm welcome you've given me and my siblings. Also wanted to say the welcome was so warm I'll be attending McKinley for the rest of the year."

At first there was dead silence, and then the celebration began; but Mercedes immediately looked to her right to see Stacy's reaction. The little girl's head was bent and she worried the napkin in her lap.

"Stacy?" she whispered.

Suddenly, Stacy threw her arms around Mercedes' neck and wailed, "I want to stay with Sammy!"

The cheering died down at Stacy's distress, but Mercedes wasn't even thinking about that, meeting Quinn's eyes as she stood with Stacy in her arms and walking them to the bathroom for privacy. Quinn and Mrs. Evans were right behind her.

Mercedes sat Stacy down on the sink because the girl was heavier than she appeared, but didn't force her to let go. Poor Stacy cried her eyes out while Quinn cooed from behind Mercedes and Mrs. Evans rubbed her daughter's back from beside her.

"We thought it was for the best," Mrs. Evans said quietly. "We let Sam go to that school for a week, but it was clear even after the first day it wasn't going to work out. His dyslexia even got _worse_ for a bit, although I do think Sam probably put some of that on."

"And there wasn't another school in Nashville?" Mercedes asked.

"Probably there was; but strategically, we thought it was better here because he already had a network of support in the school, and it could help him prepare for college better than with people who'd he'd have to set up relationships all over again." Mrs. Evans sighed and kissed the side of Stacy's head. "It's still hard for Stacy and Stevie to accept, though."

Mercedes could understand that. She'd cried like a newborn when her brother had gone off to college at the beginning of her sophomore year.

Quinn wet a towel and gave it to Mrs. Evans who wiped her daughter's face.

"We'll definitely look out for Sam, Mrs. Evans," Quinn assured.

"We're a family," Mercedes added. "That's what we do."

Mrs. Evans cupped Quinn's cheek, then Mercedes'. "I know. You've been so good to us; so happy to see that hasn't changed."

"We love Sam," Mercedes blurted, and suddenly felt very exposed at that declaration, especially when Mrs. Evans smiled softly at her.

"We know that too."

"I want to stay with you and Quinn too," Stacy whispered after some time.

Mercedes and Quinn hugged her close, none of them having a ready answer for that.

It was another minute or so before Stacy said she was ready to go back out. She hopped down from the sink but immediately grabbed for Mercedes' hand. When they left, Sam was hovering by the door with Stevie hugging his leg.

"Sam!" his mother exclaimed on a surprised chuckle.

"You okay, Stacy?" Sam asked, catching Mercedes' eye briefly before putting all his attention on his sister.

"Yeah, sorry, Sammy," she apologized forlornly.

Mrs. Evans and Quinn returned to the table, Stevie now attaching himself to Quinn and going with them, but Mercedes couldn't leave because Stacy still had a death grip on her hand. Sam crouched down in front of his sister and grasped her free hand.

"Just because I'm up here and not down there doesn't mean I don't love you or I'll forget about you," he promised.

"You mean like you still loved Mercedes even though we were in Nashville and she was up here?" Stacy asked.

Mercedes' face enflamed, but thankfully not as visibly as Sam's did. "Exactly," he said while clearing his throat.

Stacy looked between the two teenagers then nodded and hugged Sam's waist. He picked her up and settled her on his hip while Mercedes fled for the sanctuary of the table. The servers were taking the checks but Mercedes couldn't find hers.

"Where's my—?"

"We covered it," Mr. Evans said with a grin. "The very least we could do for all the babysitting and cookies you gave us when we were here."

"And don't forget you promised us some!" Stevie reminded quite loudly, and his mother shushed him sharply.

When it was time to leave, Stacy and Stevie campaigned hard for Quinn and Mercedes especially to come back to the hotel, but the Evans parents firmly denied them, saying it was very past their bedtime of eight-thirty. Mr. Schue and Mike's parents also left, though Mrs. Chang looked pointedly at Mike, Tina, and Sam.

"Curfew, midnight," was all the woman said. Mike and Sam saluted the edict while Tina grinned but nodded.

"See you guys on Tuesday," Mr. Schue said and clapped Sam's shoulder. "Good to have you back with the New Directions!"

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Sam replied.

It was far, far too early for them to go home, so Puck suggested bowling. Because it wasn't too far from Breadstix, they decided to carpool over instead of take all the individual cars.

"Come with us!" Tina said, yanking Mercedes toward Mike's car.

"But, Quinn—"

"I'll catch a ride with Brittany, Santana, and Artie," Quinn said with a little wave. Rachel was going with Finn in his truck and Kurt and Blaine were hitching a ride with Puck and Lauren. Tina sat in the back with Mercedes so Sam could have the space the front passenger seat provided. Mike and Sam fell into their own conversation and Tina tugged on Mercedes' hand.

"I had _no_ idea!" Tina whispered to Mercedes. "Did you?"

Mercedes shook her head. "They kept it tightly under wraps, huh?"

"Guess so, just in case it didn't work out and get our hopes up for nothing. But this is great!" Tina declared excitedly.

Mercedes squeezed Tina's hand.

"Do you think you two can pick up where you left off?" Tina asked, her tone dropping so only Mercedes could definitely hear.

Mercedes just shrugged and started to answer when she realized they weren't on the way to the bowling alley at all. "Uh, Mike? Where are we going?"

"Er…"

"Michael Chang! What are you doing?" Tina asked sharply.

"I asked him to take us to his house," Sam said placidly, then turned around and met Mercedes' eyes. "We need to talk."

"And this is a conversation we couldn't have at the bowling alley?"

"No," Sam said simply, then turned back around to face ahead.

Mercedes gaped at the headrest in front of her while Tina gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Maybe Sam had just answered Tina's question and didn't even know it.

Five minutes later they were pulling into the Chang driveway. "We'll go back out and get your car around eleven-thirty," Mike said. Mercedes nodded absently but didn't make a move out of the car like the others did. Tina and Mike went up the walk hand in hand but Sam opened the rear passenger's side door and crouched down so he could be eye level with Mercedes.

Or, he would've been if she'd looked at him.

"I like your haircut," he said.

"It's a weave, but thank you," Mercedes mumbled, glancing at him. "I like yours too. Much clearer in person than in that tiny phone pic."

Sam nodded but frowned. "I thought you didn't wear weaves."

"I didn't, but I decided to go natural a few weeks ago so I cut off my hair; but I still wanted length…" She patted her short, sleek bob self-consciously, and he grabbed her hand. When he kissed her knuckles she let out a shaky breath.

"I don't exactly know what that means, but if you're cool with it, I'm cool," Sam admitted, and for some reason that made her laugh.

"Means eventually I'll be rockin' a 'Fro," she explained.

His eyes widened and he gave her a lopsided grin. "Hot! All Pam Grier on me!"

"Boy, what you know about Pam Grier?"

He coughed and rubbed his neck. "Uh—"

"Nasty!" Mercedes said on a laugh. "Wanted a peep show, huh?"

"My friend Carlos introduced me—his dad loved those '70s Blaxploitation films…"

"Oh, so you think you's a bad motha—"

"Shut yo' mouth!" Sam said in an Isaac Hayes impression, and Mercedes threw her head back and laughed harder. He chuckled as well and stood from his crouch, her hand still cradled in his.

"Want to take this inside?"

"Depends on the conversation," Mercedes admitted, the majority of her mirth gone and replaced with trepidation.

Sam's lips quirked and he kissed her knuckles again.

Jesus, but she'd missed his lips, and she bit the bottom one of hers as she got out of the car. Sam interlocked their fingers and they entered the house. Mike and Tina were nowhere to be seen or heard, and Mercedes decided that was a very good thing. Sam led them into the living room and sat on the plush futon inside. Mercedes remained standing, so he stood again.

"Why are we here and not bowling?" she asked, trying not to fidget or let dread color her voice. "What couldn't you talk about at the bowling alley that you need to say?"

"You're beautiful and I love you."

It took a second for the words to fight through all of her worst-case scenarios and finally settle upon her ears and heart; but when it did, Mercedes buried her face in his chest and hugged him tightly. She felt him kiss the top of her head and rub her back soothingly.

"Sam…"

"I…couldn't go another minute without holding you like this, Mercedes, I'm sorry. But if you want to go bowling…"

She squeezed his waist tighter and shook her head. "This is perfect."

"And I'm sorry for not telling you about this," he continued, his hands really kneading her back now, as if he couldn't believe he were actually holding and touching her. "I…for a moment it didn't look like it would work, and I couldn't get your hopes up like that for nothing. I had to be sure—"

She kissed the space over his heart, then continued peppering kisses up his chest until she reached his collarbone. Sam groaned softly and bent his head so his lips grazed her nose. She tilted her chin up, and their mouths brushed each other's.

Oh, how she'd missed his mouth. He tasted of the breadsticks and chicken parmesan he'd had for dinner, but she didn't care. She had his lips on hers again, his strong arms around her again, and the sensation was even better than she remembered.

"Fuck, 'Cedes," he breathed, and finally kissed her with a summer's worth of yearning, desire, and love.

She felt weightless, disembodied, dizzy. Somehow she'd ended up on the futon on her back with Sam's heavy body pressing her into the cushions. He was hard and insistent against her thigh and his hands knew no boundaries along her body. She gasped harshly and threw her head back as he nipped and nuzzled her neck, and her fingernails bit into the muscles of his shoulders. His hands palmed her breasts over her shirt and squeezed, resulting in him moaning low in his throat.

"You feel so good," he whispered against her jaw. "Lady, damn…"

He started kissing down her neck but she grasped his face and brought him back up. His thumbs continued stroking the sides of her breasts and he smiled softly at her.

"Too fast?"

Mercedes closed her eyes and nodded, sighing when he kissed her forehead. Her thumbs caressed his cheeks, feeling the beginnings of his stubble. "We don't have to do everything tonight," she said quietly.

"As long as I get to do everything with you," he whispered against her brow.

Her hands settled on his hips and squeezed, then slipped underneath his shirt to feel his warm skin and hard musculature. "Everything?"

"_Everything_," he stressed, this time into her neck.

For some reason, Mercedes didn't think he was just talking about sex but she doesn't dare challenge him about it. Instead, she concentrated on the feel of his flesh underneath her hands and wondered how she'd made it all summer without being able to touch him. She turned her head to Sam and he found her mouth with his again, and they let their tongues tangle together in a way that would almost be obscene if she'd cared about that sort of thing. One of them had begun moving hips, or maybe Mercedes had forced him when her hands had grabbed his waist again because she really, _really_ liked the way he felt between her legs, even if she weren't ready for all of what that could mean.

"Sam," she gasped when he nipped her collarbone and ground hard into her. "_Sammy_—"

"_Mercy_," he growled, squeezing her breasts before burying his face in her chest. Unable to help herself, Mercedes burst out laughing, and did so even harder when she felt and heard him laugh against her.

"All summer I've dreamed of doing this," he muttered into her.

"Sam!" she exclaimed and continued laughing, slapping his butt, but then she palmed it. "Well, _damn_, white boy! Didn't know you had some junk in the trunk!"

Sam continued to chuckle when he met her eyes. "Are you ready for _my_ jelly?"

"_Mmm_," Mercedes said, arching an eyebrow while caressing his backside. "I could be soon…"

Her breath caught in her throat when he smiled wider and placed a sweet kiss on each swell of her breast; and she smiled when he rested his cheek back on her chest, hugging her waist. Laughing lightly, she kissed the top of his head and cradled him there, her eyes drooping closed.

"You're softer than any pillow…"

"Oh, my God," Mercedes said with a wince. "That was incredibly unoriginal."

"Doesn't make it less true," he insisted, kissing a breast again. "I could do this every night."

And he'd said it so matter-of-factly that her heart raced at the candor of the statement, particularly when he squeezed her, nuzzled his cheek against her heart, and looked at her with such sincerity green eyes, that the word "forever" and the image of a golden miniature version of Sam resting on her chest instead flitted through her mind.

"I think it's time to go," she whispered, barely able to draw breath.

Sam stared at her, and Mercedes had to drop her eyes from the intensity of it. "Okay," he finally said, and kissed her cheek before going upstairs to get Mike.

Nobody spoke on the drive back to Breadstix, and Mercedes was mildly surprised when Tina asked her to give her a ride home.

"That's the most logical thing, right?" Tina asked, she herself looking spooked.

Each guy gave his girl a kiss on the cheek and Mercedes noticed they'd waited in the parking lot until she'd turned onto the main road. The radio filled the heavy silence between the two girls on the way to Tina's home, but neither made a move when Mercedes pulled into the drive.

Tina put her hand out on the console and Mercedes linked their fingers together. The unyielding grip they had was comforting instead of painful.

"I just stared forever in the face and it freaked me out," Tina muttered.

"You too?" Mercedes asked. At her friend's nod, Mercedes groaned pitifully. "What the _hell_ did they put in those breadsticks tonight?"

Dazed, Tina shook her head. "I dunno, but I don't think I'll be going back to Breadstix for a _very_ long time!"


	11. To Burst the Bubble

**Title:** To Burst the Bubble  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee Club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam isn't feeling this "secrecy" thing anymore, especially when Mercedes was keeping some from him.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>As Sam had told Quinn what seemed like eons ago, he was pretty, but he wasn't dumb.<p>

Something was off between him and Mercedes and had been ever since he'd returned from Tennessee. She didn't look at him anymore, shied away from his touch, kept their phone and text conversations so brief he'd often wondered if he'd imagined the entire exchanges. True, they'd decided to continue keeping their relationship a secret, but he didn't mean even from _him_!

"Did you two break up?"

There was a sharpness to the question that made Sam jump and wince before shaking his head and staring at the mocha he'd ordered. Kurt regarded him with concern and a little suspicion but thankfully reserved judgment.

"I don't know what's going on in that beautiful head of hers; but for the past two weeks, it's been really weird."

"Are there any…_problems_…in the love department?"

Sam frowned and shifted a little in his seat, looking around the Lima Bean. "Um…not to my knowledge." Never mind he was still stuck on first base with occasional sprints to second. But he'd never rush her; surely she knew that—

"Because I can give you some pointers if—"

"I thought you were gay," Sam interrupted with an arched eyebrow.

"Flames all around," Kurt agreed waving his hands about him as if he were on fire, "but I am often privy to lady chats from which you men are barred. I know things, Sam…_lots_ of things…"

And as much as Sam desired to get in on some of _that_ wisdom, he knew instinctively that wasn't the crux of the odd vibe between him and _his_ lady.

"That's not it," Sam said with less confidence than he liked despite himself. "It's…we agreed to keep things quiet still, but she's taking it to the extreme and I don't like it."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because glee club is crazy," Sam said automatically.

"It is that," Kurt conceded, "but you should know we'd all support you…even Santana."

Sam wasn't all too sure about that, but he wouldn't argue the point. "She doesn't want people in our business."

"Glee club isn't 'people'," Kurt said. "We're family, and Mercedes is one of the main ones always saying so."

"Well, then, I don't know anymore," Sam said in a huff, throwing up his hands. Kurt said nothing but stared at a fixed point on his body. Brows furrowed in confusion, Sam looked down to see the gaze trained on the "M" of his letterman jacket.

Understanding hit him like a bucket of cold water. "Seriously?"

Kurt pursed his lips and shrugged. "That could have something to do with it."

"I don't care about that!" Sam said.

"But she cares about _you_," Kurt said. "Yes, Mercedes can handle herself; but she's very protective of the people who matter to her—in fact, I had to forbid her from ever approaching Dave when he was bullying me, actually."

"_Dave_?" Sam repeated with derision.

"He is turning over a new leaf and so shall I," Kurt said, and his tone indicated that particular decision was final.

"Whatever," Sam muttered, slumping back. Karofsky wasn't even in the top ten of his concerns right now. "So you think she's _really_ keeping us under wraps because I'm on the football team?"

"And you dated two of the hottest girls at McKinley before moving on to her," Kurt added, sipping his espresso.

"_She's_ the hottest girl at McKinley!" Sam said, presenting an imaginary Mercedes to Kurt.

Kurt didn't even bother to look. "And while you will not get an argument from me, let us not be deliberately obtuse, Sam, which is something you are so very fond of being, unfortunately."

Sam sat back heavily in his seat and glared at his drink. Funny how he'd first dated one girl who'd been on a never-ending quest for all eyes on her and now one who shied away from the spotlight unless it was on a stage. And yes, he would love nothing more than to be popular and respected around school, but not if Mercedes thought she was a burden. He didn't need the school's adoration and love—just hers.

"I need help—"

"I was hoping you would say that," Kurt interrupted immediately, bending forward until the glint of a plan couldn't be hidden from his eyes. He clapped excitedly, but then his face fell a little. "To do what I'm thinking will require the boys, at least, to know about you and Mercedes."

That made Sam pause, but only for a split-second. "Fine. You and Mike already know."

"Great! Round up the boys after football practice and tell them to come to the Hummel-Hudson home. We're going to have a powwow!"

"I'll check with Mike first, since he is my ride right now."

"Great, great, do that. In the meantime, I'll consult with Blaine to see what his ideas are—he's a genius at serenades…"

Sam caught up with Mike first, who had appeared just as bewildered as he'd felt for a while now. They hovered by Mike's locker as they watched Tina and Mercedes whisper fiercely to each other, linking arms and heading for the cafeteria as they did so.

"Something's goin' on," Mike determined.

"Yep," Sam agreed. "Talked to Kurt about it."

"We've been solid for over a year now; why is she suddenly acting weird?" Mike asked, more rhetorically than anything else.

"He said to get the guys together tonight at his and Finn's place to get a plan in action."

Mike shot him an incredulous look. "You want me to take advice from a bunch of guys who can't even keep a girlfriend for a _week_?"

"Well, considering all the couples who'd been around before I left are still together, I think we'll be okay," Sam tried. "Besides, Kurt's been pretty stable; maybe because boys aren't as moody…"

The incredulous look remained for another beat before smoothing away. "Noted," Mike said, then groaned and leaned against the locker. "At this point, I'm game for anything; I just miss holding my girl."

The day dragged on for Sam and it felt as if football practice would never end. Beiste decided she'd use both Finn and Sam's services at quarterback in addition to Sam playing cornerback on defense.

He could barely walk afterwards.

"Good job, guys!" Finn cheered, just as refreshed as ever since he'd mainly gone over the playbook during practice.

Sam glared mightily.

"Are you gonna mention the Kurt thing?" Mike said in his ear, sounding just as weary as Sam felt.

Sam almost cried; the pain having temporarily removed that bookmark from his mind, he'd forgotten about it. "Yeah…" Love waited for no man.

Sam chose not to go into detail just yet—too many ears—but the guys were definitely game; and Artie, blessed Artie, insisted they postpone the meeting until after the next glee club rehearsal tomorrow. Finn promised to smooth things over with Kurt when he got home, and the glee boys shuffled and wheeled out of the locker room with every intention to collapse into bed once they reached their homes. Just as Sam was about to pass out for the night, a text from Mercedes pierced his sluggish brain.

He returned the text and grinned slightly as he fell asleep.

The next morning found Mike and Sam entering the school at the same time Tina, Quinn, Mercedes, and Lauren were. Per usual, their two ladies barely met their eyes.

"Heard practice was brutal yesterday," Lauren said. "Did Tina give you a nice rubdown last night, Mike? Puckerman enjoyed his…"

Tina grabbed Mercedes' arm and hightailed it into the school, garnering curious looks from Lauren and Quinn to the dancer.

"And there's your answer," Mike said dryly, rolling his eyes and sullenly let himself get swept into the throng of students.

"Trouble in paradise?" Lauren asked, the concern genuine as she entered the school as well.

Quinn hugged Sam's arm to her and squeezed. "Want me to talk to Mercedes?"

"Give it a shot. Might as well talk to Tina too. I thought it would be a good thing I was back, but she's been treating me like a leper!"

"You've not been coming on too strongly have you?" Quinn asked. "No promise rings or anything?"

Sam huffed out a laugh as they approached his locker. "Learned my lesson with you."

Quinn laughed as well and kissed his cheek. "You two will work it out, Sam. She loves you very much."

Sam nodded and smiled, appreciating Quinn's words.

Sam didn't pay much attention during class, which was already a struggle enough with his dyslexia; but he relaxed when glee club arrived because he knew they weren't learning music yet. As before, Tina and Mercedes were attached at the hip, forcing him and Mike to sit together. The two girls were bent of a sheet of paper, Tina spreading her fingers as if she were playing piano keys.

"They're working on something," Mike said.

"That they can't tell us about?"

"Aren't we about to do the same?" Mike asked.

Sam didn't respond, but it sure didn't feel the same.

When glee club ended, Tina and Mercedes approached Mr. Schue, who smiled and squeezed Tina's shoulder with a nod. They both got comfortable at the piano and waved at Santana and Brittany leaving.

"Ready?" Kurt asked, coming up beside Sam.

"Yeah," Sam said, dragging his eyes away from his and Mike's ladies. "Let's do this."

There were boxes of pizza already waiting for them when they arrived at the Hummel-Hudson home along with Ms. Carol's chicken wings. Sam honed on those first and grabbed three, accepting the kiss on the cheek Finn's mother gave him.

"Glad you're back, Sam," she said with a smile.

He blushed and grinned. "Thank you, Mrs. Double-H."

"Oh, if you weren't my mom I'd so call you that," Finn said.

"Or H-squared," Artie offered, earning high-fives from Finn and Puck for his suggestion.

"Of how about Ms. Carol just like the girls do," Ms. Carol said with a little laugh, pinching her son's side affectionately.

The doorbell rang while they were making their way into the living room, which had been decked out with an easel and packs of pens and notecards. Mike gave Sam a baleful look, but he shrugged and chuckled at Kurt's efforts.

"Blaine's here, you guys, so we can start!" Kurt announced, and the guys waved to the Warbler good-naturedly.

"So, what's this 'girl trouble'?" Artie asked, frowning at both Mike and Sam. "You've not been playing too much _Halo_, have you, Mike?"

"_Tina's_ the one all about the video games!" Mike said in his defense. "And no, I don't think so."

"And dude, you move fast. Only been back at school for two weeks and you're already closing in for the kill? Who's the Cheerio this time?" Puck asked Sam.

"She's not a Cheerio," Sam muttered, resenting that particular implication. "Not anymore—"

Finn made an unsure face. "Dude, if it's Quinn again—"

"Not Quinn," Sam interrupted, sighing.

"Nope," Mike reiterated.

Artie's usually pleasant disposition darkened considerably. "I would really hate it if I lost another girlfriend to one of my good friends."

"Not Brittany, either, Artie, so don't worry," Sam reassured, and Artie visibly relaxed.

"Damn sure not Satan," Puck said confidently. "She's a sex shark and sex sharks do the wooing, not the other way around."

"You mean the negotiating," Sam muttered and Finn mimicked a bobblehead, so emphatic was his nod.

"Dude, seriously, she treats relationships like they're business transactions!"

Puck shrugged. "Which suited me _just fine_—"

"Can we get back on topic?" Kurt asked wearily, sitting by the easel, and Blaine squeezed his boyfriend's shoulder in support.

"I have a severe case of déjà vu," Mike muttered.

"No kiddin'," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Puck eyed Mike. "Obviously Mike knows, so spill!"

"So does Kurt; but he's suspiciously tight-lipped about it," Finn said, narrowing his eyes at his stepbrother. "In fact, the only time he's that quiet is when it has to do with—"

If Mike had just been a hair slower with his reflexes, Sam would be sporting a nice shiner on his eye.

"Jesus, what's your _problem_?" Sam asked, scrambling backwards into Blaine and Kurt on the couch.

"Stay away from Rachel!" Finn yelled, struggling against Mike's hold.

"Really, Finn?" Puck asked and scoffed. "Nobody wants your girl but you!"

"Kurt's keeping secrets, and he only does that with Rachel—"

"And _Mercedes_!" Kurt snapped, his eyes crackling as well.

The air, along with Finn's fight, was immediately sucked out of the room just as Finn's mother entered it.

"What in the world is going on here?" Ms. Carol asked, glaring at them all.

"Sorry, Ms. Carol; brief misunderstanding, all resolved now," Blaine said placidly, and Finn slowly returned to his seat.

"It better be, or I'll have to ask all of you to leave, okay?" Ms. Carol warned. The boys nodded and she looked at her son pointedly before leaving them alone again.

"Sorry, Sam," Finn said after a silent while. "Again."

"And let's not rewrite history—you took Quinn from me, not the other way around," Sam muttered.

"You'll have to forgive him a bit if he he's quick on that trigger," Puck said. "Did it to him…twice…"

Sam cast a wary eye at the Mohawked teen. "Will you do it to me?"

Puck threw back his head and laughed. "Do you know how much effort it took to get Mercedes to go out with me the first time?"

"Can't go wrong with the Rat Pack," Artie said.

"Yeah, but back to _Sam_," Puck said, sprawling in the arm chair. "How will you pull _that_ off? Mercedes is one of the most badass girls at the school; and I should know—I only date badass."

"And Rachel qualifies how?" Artie asked.

Puck cut his eyes at Artie. "She's a Jew; automatic badassery right there."

Artie rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Sam will do, I'm fairly certain it _won't_ involve comparing her to a Nissan ad," Kurt pointed out.

"You did _not_," Sam implored.

Artie cracked up. "Mercy turned him down flat. Puck was proud of that line too!"

"Nissan ads have curvy roads, Mercedes is curvy, made sense to me…"

The others groaned.

"It's actually a wonder any of you have ever had girlfriends at all," Blaine said, shaking his head.

"No truer statement, Blaine," Kurt agreed.

Sam sighed and dropped his head against the back of the couch. "None of this is helping Mike _or_ me!"

"Speaking of," Puck said, pointing a lazy finger at Mike. "You _do_ know you two aren't allowed to break up, right?"

"Yeah, Brittany's already declared herself a bridesmaid at your wedding and has even started scouting venues," Artie continued.

Mike perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, man! Brittany is a planner, but not as anal as Rachel—"

"_Nobody's_ as anal as Rachel," Finn mumbled.

"The fact you're not freaked out by the 'M' word is a little unsettling," Puck said, regarding Mike warily.

Mike shrugged. "I love her."

"I love Rachel, too, but I'm not thinking of marriage!" Finn said!

"That's because you're incapable of thinking more than five minutes into the future!" Kurt joked.

Sam shook his head. Perhaps including all of the guys on this was a bad idea. So far, the glee boys as a group were 0–2 when it came to wooing a girl. Then again, they'd not consulted Kurt in either instance.

"You know what, guys, never mind—"

"NO!"

Sam reared back against the couch, surprised by the emphatic response. "Jesus, y'all!"

"You can't give up!" Puck insisted.

"Yeah, dude, why don't you just pick a song to sing to her in glee? That generally works," Finn added.

"That's how I got Mercedes to go out with me," Puck reminded him.

"This is not just about glee club, y'all," Sam mumbled, running a tired hand over his face. "This is about me walking the halls with Mercedes' hand in mine or giving her a kiss on the nose because it's so cute when it scrunches up as she laughs or beatin' someone's ass because they look at my lady too long—"

"Wait a minute—how long have you _liked_ Mercedes?" Artie asked with a frown.

"Yeah, you're talking like you're not trying to get her; you talk like you already have her and want to keep her!" Puck said accusingly.

"Since New York!" Kurt squealed, bouncing in his chair excitedly.

"No way! Really?" Finn exclaimed.

"_Damn_, you really know how to keep things hush-hush, don't you?" Artie added.

"Wow, her idea, wasn't it?" Puck asked.

Sam nodded and Mike lightly punched his shoulder in support.

"Well, I get it," Puck said. "When we were dating, she was the same way, really standoffish. Granted, we didn't like each other like that, but still…I wouldn't have minded some makeout sessions in the halls…all those lovely lady lumps—"

"Seriously?" Sam almost snarled.

Puck shrugged unapologetically. "I call her sexy mama for a reason—"

Sam started to rise, but Mike held out a staying hand. "So how about you don't do that anymore—"

"Boys!" Kurt interjected, clapping his hands. "As much as my romantic heart flutters on Mercedes' behalf, we need to focus. And honestly, Mike, I think for you, you just need to talk to Tina. We cannot help you with that."

"But we got your back, dude, totally," Finn said.

The others nodded, and Sam and Mike fist-bumped each other.

"As for you, Sam, you have to convince Mercedes you don't consider her a social liability—"

"What the fuck, dude?" Puck interrupted, he on the verge of attacking Sam this time. Finn stopped him, though.

"Simmer down, Puckerman," Kurt said sharply. "Of course Sam doesn't think that, but there are plenty of others who would, and you know this. Think about all the grief you've been getting for dating Lauren."

Puck rolled his eyes and folded his arms at his chest. "Fuck them. _Fuck them_, Sam. Just claim your woman and fuck the haters. They're mad they can't pull women like ours."

"Yes, but I don't think a big production is Mercedes' thing," Blaine pointed out. "Like…the glee club shouldn't be involved."

Kurt gasped. "But Blaine—!"

"Remember the Night of Neglect benefit? After she _killed_ her song, she was happy, but shy, and practically ran off the stage. You don't want to embarrass her, Sam, but yeah…'claim your woman' like Puck says."

Kurt looked like the wind had been knocked out his sails. "She did it for me; I want to repay her…"

Blaine kissed Kurt lightly on the lips. "But Mercedes isn't you, babe, and Sam isn't me. They have to travel their own course to love."

Determining just what that course was, however, proved far more difficult than Sam had anticipated. One would think knowing Mercedes loved him would make things easier, but it didn't. Over the next two days, Kurt texted him every single idea that came to his mind; and while Sam appreciated the appeal of a horse-drawn carriage through the halls of McKinley, he didn't think Principal Figgins would be up for that…let alone Mercedes.

"Hey, Sam?"

He spun around so quickly he almost fell into the lockers, and Mercedes looked away from him with her lips pulled into her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Hey, uh, Mercedes, what's up?" To say he was surprised she was talking to him in the full view of the halls was something he resented. Still, she was his friend, regardless of what else they were to each other.

"After you have football practice…could you come to the choir room, please? I have to tell you something."

His heart plummeted into his stomach. "It isn't anything bad, is it?"

She nibbled her bottom lip and shook her head. "I hope not."

Sam bent closer to her and stared directly into her eyes. "I'm not breaking up with you."

Mercedes gripped the straps of her book bag tighter and released a shuddering breath, swaying into him before catching herself and looking around. "Later, Sam."

He was restless for the rest of the day, irritable, that even his teammates gave him a wide berth in the locker rooms during football practice. The only one to broach the invisible barrier was Mike.

"Um, Tina wants me to come to the choir room after practice."

Sam immediately jerked up his head. "So does Mercedes."

Mike's eyebrows rose. "So they _were_ planning something…"

Sam still wasn't sure if this were good news or not.

Nevertheless, the two returned to the choir room when practice ended. Mercedes paced in front of two chairs with headphones in her ears while Tina played a very pretty melody on the piano. Sam and Mike looked at each other, then broke apart to head to their girls. Sam didn't speak, merely standing in Mercedes' path as she walked away from him, and quirked his lips when she jumped upon finally seeing him.

Her smile was tiny and embarrassed as she took the headphones from her ears. "Well, have a seat." She waved a hand to the chairs.

"I want a kiss first," Sam declared.

Mercedes rolled her eyes but did grant him one. Her lips trembled beneath his even as she slipped her fingers into the pockets of his jeans. It'd been too damn long since they'd done this; and Sam hoped she didn't think he'd be relinquishing her mouth anytime soon.

She started to pull back, but he gripped her elbows to keep her near. "Sam—"

"Not finished," he muttered, grasping her upper lip with his teeth. "You have the best lips, lady."

"Yeah, I'll have to disagree with that," she replied softly, licking his bottom lip quickly before stepping away from him. He glared but she smiled coyly and looked over her shoulder.

Mike stood behind Tina with his arms around her and they swayed, both of their eyes closed. Mercedes flashed Sam a shy grin then cleared her throat.

"We better do this before they close up the school on us," she told Tina.

The other girl pouted, but it smoothed away when Mike kissed her temple.

"I love you," Sam heard Mike say.

"I love you too," Tina replied.

As Mike walked passed Mercedes, he kissed her cheek and winked, and Mercedes bumped her shoulder against him in recognition. The two ladies spoke to themselves, with Tina shaking her head and Mercedes nodding hers.

Mike eyed him. "Sit down, man; it won't be bad."

"Glad one of us is confident."

Mike smirked and nodded his head to the empty chair beside him. "C'mon."

He did, his knee bouncing from the nerves attacking his body. Mercedes finally faced him, her smile bright for Mike and more subdued for Sam. She opened her mouth and took a breath as if to prepare speaking, but then she shook her head and glanced at Tina, who nodded encouragingly.

"Had a whole speech prepared, we did," Mercedes began, waving her hand between her and Tina, "but if I say it, I won't be able to get through the rest, so I'm just gonna start, Tina."

"Okay," Tina said with a soft, understanding smile, and she began to play.

Mercedes kept her eyes closed as she sung, with Tina providing beautiful harmonies vocally along with the piano accompaniment, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. As always, Mercedes became one with the song; and this song's lyrics seemed to really touch her, because sometimes her voice would get all wobbly from trying not to cry. Tina didn't bother to stop her tears, nor did she take her eyes from Mike, who seemed to be on the verge of them himself.

For his part, Sam couldn't stay seated; and it was then Mercedes met his eyes with hers. He didn't stop approaching and she didn't stop singing, but her voice faltered when he cupped her face in his hands and brushed her tears away. He didn't let her finish, either, stealing the rest of the song from her lips with his tongue.

"I don't get it, though," Sam admitted when he broke the kiss, one hand smoothing along her hair. "I know you love me, just like I love you. Why all this distance?"

"_Forever_, Sam," Mercedes whispered, clutching his shirt in her hands. "I saw it, that day you came back. I saw it with you, and it freaked me out, which means of _course_ it would freak you out too—"

He kissed her again, harder, more intensely than he'd ever kissed a girl in his life. She broke it with a gasp.

"Sam—"

"Me too," Sam confessed breathlessly, his forehead against hers. But he wouldn't tell her sometimes he'd even imagined they were parents and Stevie and Stacy were their kids whenever they'd babysat together—something he'd never done with Quinn. That would probably just freak Mercedes out even more, and he couldn't go through another week of estrangement like this past one.

"Don't just say that to make me feel better, Sam," she whispered.

"I'm sayin' it 'cause it's true," Sam replied.

Mercedes didn't respond and instead hugged him about his waist. "I'm sorry for pulling away."

"Yeah, I'd rather be freaked out with you than calm without you, okay?" he told her.

Mercedes giggled and tilted up her head to look into his eyes. "And Santana said you had no game."

"This isn't a game." He kissed her nose. "_You_ aren't a game." He kissed her mouth. "I don't want to hide anymore."

"Okay."

He pulled back, pleasantly surprised, and he smiled. "Really? I thought you'd fight me on this."

She shrugged, playing with the buttons on the flannel shirt he wore. "It's getting more and more difficult to pretend you don't matter to me the way you do," she revealed. "So, we don't have to be like Mike and Tina over here—"

There was a grunt, but apparently the other couple wasn't too bothered as they kept on kissing with no end in sight, even causing discordant chords as Mike leaned Tina over the piano.

Mercedes giggled and Sam smiled touching his nose to hers. "But when I see you in the halls, I can come up to you and do this…" He trailed off and brushed his lips against hers.

"As often as you'd like," Mercedes said, her smile so big and blinding Sam almost squinted.

"Like now," Sam mumbled and kissed her again. He'd missed her softness pressed against him and wished they had more time to get reacquainted with each other.

"Okay, I gotta go," Mercedes said, but she peppered his cheek and jaw with more kisses. "Thank you for not flipping out."

He tightened his arms around her and she arched her brow. Groaning lightly, he snuck one last kiss in before stepping away from her.

All four walked to the parking lot but Mercedes was driving home alone; Mike was his and Tina's ride.

"Have a good night," she said and gave Sam one last kiss.

"Text me when you get home, lady," Sam said. She nodded and hugged Mike and Tina, the two girls laughing and whispering to each other.

They didn't even get into Mike's car until Mercedes turned safely out of the lot.

"Hey, Tina, what was that song y'all sang?" Sam asked as Mike drove them to her house.

"'First Love' by Goapele," Tina said. "Mercedes played it for me and I couldn't believe how perfect it was."

"You're perfect," Mike murmured, and Tina gave him a smacking kiss to the cheek.

Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and closed them, leaning against the window of the backseat. He was glad to have his equilibrium back, his _Mercedes_ back, but Sam knew he still had to make Mercedes see he was proud to have her as his lady in public. Luckily, one thing Sam was really good at doing was wearing his heart on his sleeve.

His muscles weren't merely just for show.


	12. Tabloid Fodder

**Title:** Tabloid Fodder  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Glee Club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam's in the paper again, but Mercedes isn't having it this time.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Is it really that hard for you <em>not<em> to go sniffing around my sloppy seconds?"

Mercedes cocked her head to the side and arched her eyebrow, closing her locker to reveal Santana's mockingly confused face.

"I'm not going to ask what you're talking about, because I don't want you to think I actually _care_," Mercedes muttered and began walking to glee.

"About you and Sam?" Santana filled in for her, falling into step beside her.

Mercedes arched her brows. She and Sam had stopped hiding their relationship over a week ago and Santana was just now mentioning it? Granted, they were still subtle about it, but Santana was usually more observant than this.

"I don't require your permission to date a single man," Mercedes informed her.

"What about the 'Girl Code', Weezy? You leave the exes of friends alone!"

"Oh, well, this is news, that you consider yourself my friend," Mercedes snarked.

Santana stopped walking, hurt flashing across her face before she wagged her head and crossed her arms at her chest. "Well I—"

"_Am_ my friend, yes," Mercedes affirmed with a slight smile, then it quickly fell. "But you got a lot of nerve talkin' 'bout some 'Girl Code'."

"I'm just saying—first Puck, then Sam! Who's next, Finn?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at that. "Unlike you, I don't treat men like toilet tissue."

"_Oh_—!"

"And furthermore, why _do_ you care? _You_ dumped Sam—matter fact, _you_ dumped Puck too. Twice."

"They know they're on standby."

"Not Sam; and if I hear of _you_ sniffing around _my_ man, what Lauren did to you on Valentine's Day will seem like a love tap, got it?"

Santana gaped at her, then she settled into a smirk. "Fair enough. So it's serious, hmm?"

"Um…" Mercedes said, still learning how to ride out Santana's mood swings. After a whole summer of dealing with the girl, she'd become better at deciphering when it was bravado and when it was genuine; but Mercedes still wasn't as proficient as she'd like to be.

"He's stopped doing his impressions, I hope," Santana muttered when Mercedes didn't respond.

"I think they're cute actually," Mercedes admitted, grinning a little.

A look of disgust hit Santana's face. "All right; three of your cool points have to be docked for that."

Mercedes smirked. "I'm trying to get him to do Denzel now—been watching _Remember the Titans_ on loop at Mike's house."

Santana seemed to contemplate that choice. "There's a whole lot of deliciousness in that movie."

"Agreed. Wholeheartedly," Mercedes said, and the two slapped hands.

"Uh-oh, what's going on?"

Mercedes and Santana whirled around to see Quinn approach them. Santana rolled her eyes but didn't march off as she would've done even at the end of last school year, and Mercedes and Quinn gave each other air kisses to each cheek.

"Why that tone?" Mercedes asked as they all continued down the hall.

"Because Santana's involved, and that usually means something not pleasant for someone," Quinn said with a shrug.

"This is true," Mercedes said, nudging an elbow into Santana's arm at her indignant gasp.

"You know Aretha here is dating Sam?" Santana asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Yes," Quinn said and grinned softly at Mercedes. "I think they're adorable together."

"Okay, really, this whole 'I accept everything' shtick you've got going is really creepy, Quinn—"

"Yet refreshing; it exhibits growth," Mercedes praised.

"And not just the uterine kind!" Santana cracked.

"You know what, Santana, lay off," Quinn said sharply. "This is senior year; we should be above such childish things—"

_Muckrakers_ were shoved into their chest by a grinning Azimio right as they reached the choir room. Santana hissed at him, and he affected a kiss to her in return.

"Don't know about you, but I'd rather newspapers than slushies," Quinn said.

Mercedes started to agree as she browsed the paper, and then she froze.

But not just _any_ Mercedes!

Who doesn't want a Mercedes, right? They're the ultimate status symbol, proof one has made it to the top, but not all Mercedes are created equal. Someone should've let senior football player Sam Evans know this before "test driving" one Mercedes Jones. Sure, she's as _big_ as the luxury car, but Sam _does_ know that doesn't count, right? He needs to trade in that clunker Mercedes for the Beemer that is Santana Lopez or the Caddy that is Quinn Fabray again. Evans, we know you're not exactly rolling in dough, but that doesn't mean you should just "roll" any old hoopty off the Singles Lot!

Hurt and embarrassment pierced Mercedes like a spear straight through her heart. She scanned the hateful piece once more, and anger came in for the party as well. This had been one of the main reasons she hadn't wanted to broadcast her relationship with Sam—he had enough to deal with; and thinking how this might make him feel if he should see it only made her anger grow.

"Oh, _hell_ to the no!"

Mercedes eyes widened at Santana's indignant exclamation and looked over to Quinn to see if she'd heard it. The blonde's eyes never lifted from the newspaper, however, and Mercedes noted the way her mouth tightened.

She jerked down the paper. "Guys—"

"A _Beemer_? Are you _kidding me_? I'm definitely a _Porsche_!" Santana snarled, hands on her hips.

"And I am certainly _not_ a 'Caddy'," Quinn said with deceptive calm as she crossed her arms at her chest, her eyes snapping fire. "How more obvious can it be that I'm an Audi!"

The two former Cheerios shared a look then did a perfectly synchronized about face and started marching down the hall. Mercedes stared after them, agog.

_Did that just really happen?_

"Mercedes Jones? What do you have to say in response to the article that ran in today's _Muckraker_?"

Mercedes arched an eyebrow and turned slowly. The little snot Jacob Ben Israel was standing there with his irritating grin and his infernal microphone in her face and his handy cameraman hovering behind him. And as tempting as it was to yank that microphone out his hand and shove it up his urethra, it would take her too long to even find his tiny prick to make it remotely worthwhile.

She glanced at the camera, then the microphone. "Is it recording?"

"Yes!" Jacob said, his smirk growing and he nodded excitedly. "Fire away!"

Mercedes planted her feet on the ground and placed her hands on her hips, more to keep from strangling him than anything else.

"Firstly, I do appreciate the use of the car conceit in the article. As someone who has top marks in her English Literature class, I can say I was pleasantly surprised by how well done it was, even if patently offensive."

The look of utter confusion on Ben Israel's face was exactly what Mercedes counted on, and she smirked.

"Secondly, yes, I'm a big girl," she continued, her voice perfectly calm despite the rage she felt. "I've _always_ been a big girl, and I do mean more than in size. I am high class and quality, just like the Benz you so 'cleverly' likened me to, so why would it be beyond the realm of comprehension Sam or any other guy would want a woman like me? _Especially_ a guy as high class and quality as Sam Evans who, guess what, is _also_ a _very_ big boy— double entendre intended—with a very big heart. _Clearly_ it would only make sense he'd want a whole lotta woman who could handle all that love he has to give and who has just as much love to give in return."

Ben Israel's eyes widened and the hand holding the microphone began to tremble.

"And _thirdly_," Mercedes finished, this time stepping all in Ben Israel's personal space and making sure her mouth was directly over the microphone. "This 'rag' you call a newspaper isn't even fit to wipe the shit from my ass, so never in your life should you or anyone else on your bullshit staff put anything about me, Sam, or any of my glee club family in another edition, _or your blog_, ever again. Got it?"

Jacob's jaw dropped and he nodded.

"Good, because I really hate being misquoted," Mercedes said, throwing the _Muckraker_ at his feet before checking the status of her perfectly manicured nails. "Now go away."

He almost did a full pirouette and headed straight for the boys bathroom, his cameraman scurrying after him. Mercedes turned her attention back to her nails because she suddenly realized almost every eye in the hallway was on her. Embarrassment flared within her again and she closed her eyes against it, making sure to take several measured breaths.

She didn't open them when a pair of slight arms wrapped around her waist from behind her, either.

"That was amazing, Mercedes," Rachel praised and kissed her cheek. "_You_ are amazing."

Tears fell despite her best effort to stop them. "I'm beyond pissed right now," she said quietly.

"It's my fault," she heard from beside her. Brittany. "Coach Sylvester asked about the glee club after the _Muckraker_ meeting the other day and I'd mentioned you two—I had no idea you'd be written up like that. I'm so sorry, Mercedes."

Mercedes shook her head. "That is _not_ your fault. Coach Sylvester's been nice to us recently, though."

"Yeah, but Jacob is the one that puts the paper to bed; Coach Sylvester's been pretty 'in name only' as the advisor," Brittany explained.

Suddenly there was yelling and shouting, and Mercedes opened her eyes to see a purple-slushied Azimio frantically shuffling down the hallway with his pants around his ankles and a look of terror in his eyes. Tina, Santana, Quinn, and Lauren stopped running once they reached the choir room, empty slushie cups held victoriously over their heads.

"That's how we do it in glee club!" Tina shouted.

"Yeah, don't start none, won't be none, Adams!" Lauren added, and she slapped hands with Santana and Quinn.

Mercedes hid her face in her hands, but it wasn't enough to muffle the loud snort of laughter she loosed. Rachel squeezed her arms about Mercedes, and soon five other pairs of arms came around her. They were all laughing to the point of cackling, and then they somehow started chanting "Don't start none, won't be none" and booty shaking to the rhythm.

"Okay, okay, that's enough."

Mr. Schuester's voice cut through the impromptu party they were having, and they all turned to see the boys regarding them with amused faces…except for Sam. His arms were folded at his chest and his jaw was so tight Mercedes imagined she could she a vein ticking even though they were at least ten feet away from each other.

"Mr. Schue—"

"We need to talk, Mercedes."

She did _not_ appreciate Sam's tone, or the fact he'd decided to use it while interrupting her.

"Well, Sam, can it wait—?"

"No," Sam said flatly, his eyes never leaving Mercedes. "Now."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then she turned to Mr. Schue. "We'll see you next rehearsal," she finally said. She knew in her gut this couldn't be a quick conversation in the hallway.

Mr. Schue looked between them, then squeezed Mercedes' shoulder. "Rachel's right, Mercedes. You _are_ amazing."

Mercedes gave a wobbly grin and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

Tina, Rachel, and Quinn kissed her cheek before going inside the choir room while Lauren and Santana gave her high fives. Brittany fist-bumped and almost got tackled when Kurt rushed Mercedes and threw his arms around her.

"I love you, Mercedes," he whispered.

She squeezed him, tears threatening again. "I love you, too, Kurt."

"And…go easy on Sam. Puck and Mike almost had to sit on him to keep him from hunting down Azimio and Jacob."

She nodded and glanced over Kurt's shoulder to Sam. He was still staring her down and she shivered.

"Pray for me?" she asked, half joking.

Kurt looked behind him and snickered. "If you can keep from killing Jacob, you can handle this."

He kissed her cheek and went inside, leaving her and Sam in the halls with stragglers walking by them. Mercedes bothered the straps of her book bag and noticed Sam was without his.

"Do you want to get your pack?" she asked, more mumbled, really.

"Mike can get it for me," Sam said and he turned, starting out of the school.

Mercedes shot him a divalicious look but followed. Even though she was irritated, she couldn't help admiring the way he walked. Was it odd to think a man looked just as good from the back as he did from the front? Sam always stood upright and walked so assured, with purpose, as if he were ready to take on the world. The fact he'd never lost that straight and tall posture even during his family's hard time last year was proof of his resilient character.

He stopped walking once they were out of the building and looked appraisingly at her. "Are your parents home?"

Mercedes frowned. "No. My mom gets off at six and my dad gets off at seven. Why?"

"Because we need to talk, in private, and my keys are in my pack," Sam said.

"What are we going to talk about?" Mercedes asked slowly.

Sam shook his head. "Please, Mercedes. If I get into it now, I'm just gonna run back in that school and find Jacob so I can beat his ass."

She nodded once and led them to her car. The drive was quiet, tense, and no one said a word until they crossed the threshold of her home.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, walking into the kitchen. Sam hovered at the end of the breakfast bar inside the kitchen while Mercedes stood on tiptoes and rifled through her cabinet for something on which they could snack. She felt his stare on her, the intense green gaze even more potent now than it'd been in the school.

"I wanted to fucking kill him," Sam admitted.

Mercedes gasped, whirling around to face him. "Sam—!"

"Okay, fine, maybe not all that, but I really wanted to get one good ram of his head into the lockers," he amended unapologetically.

Mercedes fell flat-footed, gripping the counter behind him. "You realize in the grand scheme of things that article wasn't so bad."

"Anything that makes you cry is very bad to me, Mercedes," Sam said quietly and started to approach her. "Anything that could give you cause to doubt my love for you is also a big fucking deal. And anything to make you think I'm anything less than honored and humbled to call you mine is itchin' for me to open a can of whoop ass."

More tears fell unbidden from her eyes. "Damn it, Sam!"

He brushed the tears away with his thumbs. "I'm kicking Jacob's and Azimio's asses tomorrow—"

"They're not worth your suspension or worse, Sam," she reminded him.

"_They're_ not; but you are," Sam insisted.

Mercedes shook her head, grasping his hands in hers. "Leave them alone. I'm…" She rolled her eyes and snorted. "I'm a 'big girl'."

"You're _my lady_," Sam said. "That means you don't have to fight the battles alone anymore."

Mercedes dropped her eyes and took a deep breath. "You know, there wouldn't _be_ these battles if you were with me—"

"'Cedes—!"

"It's not gonna end," Mercedes warned. "If it's not my weight, it'll be my race…or yours. Or the popular yet dorky jock with the diva dweeb. In fact, the longer you're with glee club and with me the lower your status gets at the school—"

"Like Puck says—fuck them! Jesus!"

He harshly dropped his hands from her and spun around, stalking away from her while running a rough hand through his hair. Mercedes couldn't remember seeing him so upset.

"Sam?"

He didn't respond, merely shaking his head. Sighing, Mercedes approached him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, letting her hands caress his muscular stomach briefly. He grasped her hands and Mercedes buried her face between his shoulder blades.

"I didn't like how it went down, Mercedes, I'm sorry," he said after a quiet moment, his hands tightening around hers. "I know you can handle yourself, independent and all that, but I didn't like you had to be alone while you did it. I should've been there with you, by your side, behind you just in case…I don't know." He sighed and lifted her hands to his lips. "I didn't like giving off the impression you were fighting for us alone. You're serious to me, and I want others to take you—_us_—seriously."

"You _were_ with me," Mercedes murmured into his back. "If I didn't have such faith and trust in you, Sam…" She trailed off, not wanting to admit what she was about to, but she was mushier at heart than she liked. "I would've never been able to say what I did. I would've believed that article at face value and _really _caused a scene."

He looked over his shoulder at her, his smile lopsided and endearing as his face turned red. "I have a big heart?"

She beamed at him. "You do."

"A big _everything_?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as his voice dropped.

She hid her face in his back again but her smile grew wider. "I'm not answering that!"

He laughed lightly. "You don't have to—already told the whole school…"

Mercedes scoffed and rolled her eyes, her cheeks ablaze. "I think I took that too far," she mumbled, untangling herself from him to leave the kitchen, but his arm snaked out and brought her back flush against his front. He began nibbling her neck and she giggled.

"Sam!"

"I _am_ 'big' everywhere," he murmured in her ear, and Mercedes groaned.

"With those big hands of yours, I'm sure—" She bit off the rest of her speech, her eyes growing wide. She had _not_ meant to say that at all…but she could admit she often looked at a guy's hands, and Sam had a beautiful pair.

"Oh, really?" Sam asked, very amused. "Am I allowed to touch you with these big hands?"

He was already, though, sliding them up and down her torso. Her nipples became hard and the space between her legs grew damp and heavy. Her breath caught in her throat when those beautiful, big hands of his finally cupped her breasts and squeezed. She moaned and sagged against him.

"Oh, fuck, _please_, Mercedes," he whispered in her ear and took the curve of her left ear between his teeth. "Let me touch you, lady…"

She arched her back so he could palm more of her breasts, her eyes dragging closed. This was not what she'd anticipated when Sam had said he wanted to talk, but she thought she preferred _this_ conversation much more.

"I won't pressure you," Sam promised, and his hands slid back to the safer territory of her sides and stomach, "but I can admit the other reason why I had to get you alone was because I was _really_ turned on by the way you told off Jacob."

She grinned saucily and turned around. "Yeah?"

"_Mmm_," Sam intoned, dropping a small kiss to her mouth. "Jacob totally had a wet spot when he rushed off to the bathroom."

She gaped, then arched an eyebrow at him. "Uh, _how_ do you know that?"

He blushed but smirked. "Kurt told us and then Puck…well, you know Puck…"

Mercedes burst out laughing. She almost felt sorry for how Puck had no doubt tortured Jacob, but then she remembered that article and any sympathy she felt evaporated. "I was crying because I was angry…angry about how that article went after you and used me to do it."

He grunted and kissed her quickly. "I'm trying to get my groove on; don't stop me by getting me pissed again…"

"Your _groove_ on?" Mercedes asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Hell, yeah!" Sam said and squeezed her. "I want to share all the love I have to give, lady."

Mercedes tensed, and the playful smirk Sam had been wearing immediately fell. "Sam—"

"Or we can just watch a movie!" Sam insisted. "Even one of those musicals you and Kurt are always talking about!"

And as much as her body thrummed for the _more_ being promised in Sam's eyes, she knew she was too raw from the events earlier to take him up for it. "How about we just cuddle on the couch?"

His gaze softened with much understanding and he nodded, kissing her forehead. "An opportunity to hold my woman close? How could I say no to that?"

The next day the glee girls all met her at the entrance of the school, Lauren, Santana, and Rachel acting as her bodyguards. Mercedes rolled her eyes and told them they were being a little overzealous with everything, but then Brittany said they were actually protecting Jacob and Azimio from _her_, so Mercedes let them continue.

She, Tina, and Quinn broke off from the rest of the group to enter their first-period chemistry class, saying goodbye to the rest of the girls and promising to go to Breadstix before heading to the football game that night. Several eyes met Mercedes, followed by a few twitters, and Quinn gave them a most epic bitchface in response.

"Don't pay attention to them," Tina said, squeezing Mercedes' shoulder.

"Not one cent," Mercedes promised and sat down next to her lab partner, who gave her an encouraging smile.

As she normally did, Mercedes tuned out the morning announcements and sketched in the margins of her notebook, but the lead of her pencil broke when she heard Sam being introduced over the PA system.

"What the—?" She immediately looked to Tina and Quinn, but they appeared just as confused as she was.

"Uh, I'm Sam Evans, senior, member of the glee club and the football team. I want to thank the student body president for letting me, um, step in real quick because I have something I want to address…"

Rustling suddenly came over the air and frantic whispering, followed by Sam's deep, "Shoot!" and Puck's, "Dude, _seriously_?"

"My bad," Sam mumbled. "Anyway, uh, I guess you can call this a rebuffal—"

"Rebuttal, Sam, to be more precise," Kurt corrected non-too-softly into the speakerphone.

"Right, _rebuttal_ to that—"

"_Craptastic_—"

"Finn, I don't think we're allowed to say that over the intercom—"

"But it was, Artie—" Mike interrupted.

"C'mon, y'all," Sam implored on an exasperated sigh. "This is my _rebuttal _to that cra—_really mean_ article that ran in the _Muckraker_ yesterday about my lady Miz Mercedes Jones. 'Cedes, you ain't no hoopty, that's for sure!"

By this point Mercedes had slumped so far down in her seat she was almost under the lab table, her chemistry textbook hiding her face from all the eyes that were now on her…again. But then she heard the opening strains of a guitar, and a smile slowly formed on her face behind the textbook.

Van Morrison's classic "Crazy Love", the Brian McKnight edition, sounded just as good in the acoustic glee guys' rendition—or maybe Mercedes was just biased. She liked the country flavor Sam added to his tone, and Puck's guitar solo was gorgeous. She closed her eyes and swayed, singing along with the background vocals because this had been her jam when it'd first come on the radio and her father would playfully give performances to her mother and her on lazy Sunday afternoons with her brother doing backup.

When the song ended, there was clapping not only from the intercom, but from her class as well. Mercedes still hadn't revealed her face, but her cheeks hurt from the large smile she wore.

"Er, yeah, so, I love you, Mercedes," Sam's voice slithered through the applause. "Don't let the haters get you down, okay? Okay…"

It was unclear how Mercedes endured class, but she was in no hurry to leave it when the bell rang. She packed up her book bag slowly, laughing nervously at her lab partner's parting "Congratulations!" Tina and Quinn wrapped her in large hugs and proceeded to gush about how romantic Sam was, and all but escorted her out into the hall. Sam and the rest of the glee club were by a bank of lockers opposite from the class, and the club began to cheer when they spotted Mercedes, causing the _rest_ of the hall to do the same.

Mercedes hid her cheesing face in her hands, only for Sam to approach with his adorable lopsided grin and pull them away to wrap her arms around his waist.

"I'm gonna kill you," she mumbled into the "M" of his letterman jacket, holding him close.

He kissed her temple. "Okay, but could you do it after the game tonight? Bieste is starting me at quarterback since Finn lost the coin toss this morning…"


	13. Tune Ups

**Title:** Tune Ups  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Finn, Burt Hummel  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam learns a bit more about how Mercedes operates.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty deeds and words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>When Burt Hummel offered Sam a job at his auto shop again, he didn't think twice about taking it this time. He needed his own ride—needed it <em>badly<em>—because as much as he appreciated all the Changs were doing for him, Sam hated being beholden to them any more than necessary.

Pride had prevented him from taking up Mr. Hummel's offer the first go 'round, that and his parents had expressly forbidden him from working another job. They were supposed to be the breadwinners, not Sam; he was supposed to work hard in school to get into the best college he could. And while his parents sent up an undisclosed amount of money every month to help the Changs cover expenses, Sam felt he needed to pull his own weight too.

He liked working here; he felt useful, as if he were accomplishing something. It also gave him an opportunity to repair his friendship with Finn in a way they couldn't do on the football team or even in glee club. There'd always been a bit of a competition between them, he finally recognized; but now that they shared quarterbacking duties and _not_ girlfriends, they could actually be genuine buddies.

"I still can't believe it about you and Mercedes," Finn said. He was helping Sam change out the tires on an old-model Ford F-150.

"Why is it so hard to believe?"

"Well, I've known Mercedes since the second grade, and she's always scared me. But then I got to know her, really know her, in glee, and she's cool. She's still scary, though—it's like she can see inside your soul and that's really creepy." He did a little shudder.

Sam snickered a little. "She calls you out on your bull and you don't like it."

"That, too, but so does Santana, and I still…well…"

"Different motivations, I reckon," Sam said, grunting slightly as he removed a tire from the truck. "Santana is a self-proclaimed bitch, so you expect it of her. Her brand of brutal honesty is usually for evil, not for good—"

"Dude, so happy you said that in the Dr. Evil voice," Finn said with muted gratitude.

Sam's grin widened. "But Mercedes, she…she makes you be responsible for all the bullshit you think of or do, almost like a parent; but even worse because she's a peer and she doesn't _have_ to care but she does anyway."

"Yeah…" Finn gave Sam the new tire they were using to change.

"But Mercedes _can_ be judgmental, snarky, and turn that 'divatude' on high when she thinks she's not being respected," Sam noted frankly.

"So can Rachel," Finn mused. "And Kurt—"

"God bless Kurt!" Sam said in a high-pitched voice. At Finn's wary glance, Sam let out a sheepish chuckle. "_Sound of Music_—my mom's and Stacy's favorite musical."

Finn arched an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "_Sure_ it is…"

Sam shoved him without force but huffed out a laugh. Okay, so he didn't mind the _occasional_ musical, and what knowledge of them he did have certainly worked in his favor where Mercedes was concerned. On the flipside, Mercedes knew a lot more about science-fiction and fantasy movies than he'd thought; but then he'd remember she had an older brother and a father who apparently adored _Star Wars_.

"You know that man took us all out to see _Revenge of the Sith_ on _my_ birthday?" she'd said indignantly once when Sam had tried to go through the Skywalker family tree. "Not even Samuel L. Jackson and Ewan McGregor could save that experience for me!"

"Your birthday's in May?" Sam had asked, feeling all kinds of a tool since May had already come and gone.

"No! And _that's_ my whole point!" Mercedes had cried.

She never did tell him when it was, though.

"When's Mercedes' birthday?" Sam asked aloud, but primarily to himself.

Finn's face went blank, then he squinted his eyes. "Um…I don't know, actually. Kurt might know—?"

"Right before Labor Day," came Burt's response from behind them. Sam and Finn blushed, but Burt rolled his eyes and handed Finn a tire.

"Wait, what? How did I miss this?" Finn asked indignantly.

Burt chuckled. "No offense, son, but you miss a lot of things."

Sam didn't bother to mask his laughter and Finn glared at them both. "Gee, thanks, Burt!"

Burt chuckled before turning graver. "But Mercedes hasn't made a big production over her birthday since she was thirteen and Quinn used Mercedes's Evite guest list to change the address from Mercedes' house to Quinn's. Since then, it's just been Mercedes and Kurt watching whatever marathon of her choice at her house and baking her secret cookies."

Both Finn and Sam winced. "I think I went to Quinn's that day too," Finn mumbled, smacking his forehead. "Damn!"

"Yeah, Kurt said she was inconsolable for hours…" Burt shook his head.

Sam's heart hurt for the newly teenaged Mercedes. "Quinn was really that bad?"

Burt arched an eyebrow. "Quinn managed to convince Mercedes Kurt had a crush on her a couple years ago."

Sam's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me." Then again, Mercedes _did _have her gullible moments.

"Nope," Burt said on a laugh. "And yet, in the end Mercedes is the first person he outs himself to, so I suppose it all worked out in the end."

"I suppose," Sam murmured, then he gasped when a very firm hand gripped his shoulder.

"Which means, I hear you hurt that girl, I'll be right behind Kurt, her brother, and her dad to kick your ass. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said quietly, knowing that line would be much longer than that too.

Finn offered him a ride back to the Changs at the end of their shift but Sam declined, saying Mike would already be on his way by now. Yet when fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Mike, he grew worried.

"My phone…" Sam mumbled, patting his pockets for it, and then cursed. He knew he'd forgotten something on the way out the house earlier!

He was just about to turn and ask to use the shop's phone when a familiar car pulled up.

He grinned in relief. "'Cedes!"

"Well, amen!" she praised, biting her lip as she approached with a swagger that made lust fill him. "Lookin' good there, Evans!"

He bent down so she could bring his face to hers for a kiss. "So are you, lady."

The juxtaposition of the Ohio State football jersey she wore to the very feminine way her hair curled about her shoulders made her look ridiculously sexy.

"No, seriously, these coveralls are just yummy," she murmured, running her hands along his biceps and biting her lower lip. "What a lucky girl am I!"

Blushing, he grinned and kissed her again. "We're not doing that, 'No, _I'm_ the lucky one!' thing, are we?"

"Nope, so just smile and nod and agree with me," she said and gave him a toothy grin.

He matched her toothy smile, nodded exaggeratedly, and kissed his agreement to her lips.

"I hope you don't mind I came and got you," she said, hooking her arm through his as they walked to the car. "My parents decided to turn our Ohio State Game Day into their date night so _I_ decided to skedaddle, and I had to pass the shop so…"

"Your parents aren't home; is what I'm hearing?" Sam asked and unable to mask his excitement.

Mercedes gave a coy little shrug. "Perhaps…"

Sam chuckled low and went in to kiss her again when Burt called her name. He groaned, dropping his forehead to hers briefly, but let her go around to give Burt a hug.

"That was a good game, wasn't it?" Burt said, slapping Mercedes' hand after they finished the hug.

"Yeah! That fifty-yard play was killer! Wish I'd been there," Mercedes said.

Sam tried to be patient, he really did; but when he heard their conversation get more and more complex with football terms even _he_ didn't know, he knew it was time for them to go.

"I have a curfew!"

They both abruptly stopped talking and Burt eyed him. "You have a seven o'clock curfew on a Saturday night?"

"I—uh—_well_—"

"He's hungry," Mercedes saved for him, "Boy just doesn't really know tact all that well, though!"

"Clearly," Burt said, but kissed Mercedes' cheek affectionately. "Tell your folks I said hello, Mercy!"

"I will, Papa Burt!"

Mercedes didn't even look at Sam as she drove, and the despairing thought that he'd sacrificed his alone time with her settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. They reached a familiar intersection and he closed his eyes, praying. Straight meant to the Changs. Left meant to her home.

"I _should_ go straight," Mercedes muttered, but she made the left instead. She parked on the street in front of her house, then gripped his chin firmly. "You were really rude to Papa Burt."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush but we get to be _alone_, Mercedes. You know how long I've waited to be alone with you?"

Her grip loosened, and she cooed at him, pecking his mouth. "But you could be a tad more subtle about it."

He grinned lopsidedly at her. "I'm not very good at that, unfortunately."

She smiled and kissed him again. "No, you're really not…"

Mercedes went inside while he stripped off his coveralls in the car. The last thing he wanted to do was get oil and grime on the Joneses' nice furniture. She was on the phone with a takeout menu in her hand when he entered and he frowned. She rolled her eyes in return and continued to order.

"You didn't have to do that," he told her once she hung up.

"You're right; but I did anyway, so enjoy your chicken fried rice when it gets here," she said as she put the cordless phone back on its base. He watched her slip her hands under her shirt and her face scrunched up a little, the action immediately worrying him.

"What's wrong, 'Cedes?" He approached her quickly.

Her eyes widened and she jerked her hands from underneath her top. "Oh, nothing!" she trilled.

"That didn't look like 'nothing' to me!" he said accusingly.

"Don't worry about it," she mumbled and started to move around him, but he didn't let her go far.

"Don't tell me not to worry about you, Mercedes," he told her and unthinkingly slid up her shirt to touch her sides. "Are you hurt? Did you pull something?" He frowned when he saw the marks on her skin around her bra, and he touched them gently. "Mercedes?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "I have a routine when I get home—go immediately upstairs and yank off the bra, then take off all the jewelry I wore that day. I can breathe easier once I do all those things but I can't because you're here."

"If you think I'm gonna be mad about you taking off your bra—"

"Sam!" she chastised, but chuckled slightly and huffed. "Be serious!"

"I am," he said, still caressing her. "Go upstairs and get comfortable. I'll get the food if it arrives before you're done." He kissed her forehead. "I never want you uncomfortable around me, Mercedes."

She cupped his jaw for a moment. "Okay." Mercedes took out her wallet and a twenty from that. "This should cover everything, okay?"

Sam nodded once and watched her go upstairs before putting her twenty back. He had a job now; he didn't need his girlfriend to pay for everything anymore. Then again, this was Mercedes Jones, one of the most giving people he'd ever met, and that fact firmed his resolve to do something for her birthday. If he'd been here instead of in Tennessee, would she have invited him to the movie marathon with Kurt or not even mention it? True he hadn't when his had happened, but he would've if his family hadn't been in such a bind. They'd been friends then, after all, and they were more now.

_So why hadn't she said anything?_

The Chinese delivery came quicker than he'd expected it would, but Mercedes still hadn't come down. And as silly as Sam knew it was to be concerned, he couldn't help it.

Sam grabbed her wallet and went upstairs. When he heard Mercedes laugh heartily, he grinned. He loved her laugh, loved that she always had to cover her mouth when she did because it was so loud and free and she was usually in a setting that didn't allow for such openness. It was nice to be with someone who appreciated his impressions, even if she didn't get many of them initially. He liked making her laugh, even when it was unexpected, like when they made out. It was never at him in a mean way, just another expression of how much she enjoyed being with him.

At least, that was his story and he was sticking with it.

He poked his head in her bedroom and saw her lying on the bed wearing a skimpy tank top and basketball shorts. Her hand covered her eyes as she giggled and shook her head.

"Micah, you're a damn fool—Mi—" she broke off into more giggles and Sam chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he looked about her room. It wasn't the neatest ever, but it was in almost fashionable disarray with a lot of purple, yellow, green, and animal print. In fact, her bedding was zebra print and it looked silk-like, so he averted his eyes to tamp down on the sudden fantasy that had sprung up.

"Micah, I'll call you back but—you is _dumb_! Stop it! Hanging up now! Love you!"

"I hope me and Stacy are that tight when she gets older," Sam said after a moment.

Mercedes looked sheepishly at him and sat up on her bed. "You and Stacy have more than ten years separating you; it'll be a different relationship than me and Micah, but I don't think you have to worry about not being close. She adores you, Sam. Stevie too."

"He plays on the band, right?" Sam asked, coming deeper inside the room.

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, he kept cracking on the drum major wiping out in front of a seventy thousand-plus crowd. He hates that guy, so his schadenfreude was hilarious!"

Sam chuckled with her and sat beside her on the bed, handing her the wallet. "The Chinese came."

"Cool! Did I leave enough?"

He nodded once shortly.

Mercedes eyed him and opened her wallet. "Sam—!"

He kissed away her impending protest, nibbling on her upper lip. She remained stiff for all of two seconds before melting into him. Sam moaned, sliding his hands around her upper torso, the softness of her breasts grazing the backs of his hands.

"You don't have to pay for everything for me anymore," he reminded her once they took a breath.

She started to respond, then rethought whatever she was going to say and nodded. "I really didn't mind, though. I honestly wasn't thinking about that, Sam."

"I know you weren't," Sam said, kissing her again. "Just being your gracious self."

She scoffed a little. "I ain't no paragon, Sam."

"You're _my_ paragon," he said teasingly, and started kissing her again. He vaguely heard something thump onto the floor, but he was far more interested in the way Mercedes lay back on the bed with him on top of her. She let out these little sounds that made his dick harder and harder, and clutched the bedding in response while hers drifted up and down his arms.

"You smell like cars," she whispered in his ear with a breathy chuckle. "I like."

"Eau de Chevy is your scent of choice, then?" Sam asked into her neck.

She laughed. "I guess. It just smells like _man_, you know?"

And suddenly, a very, _very_ naughty thought jumped into his brain, and he smirked, placing his hand on her knee beneath the shorts she wore.

"I can make you smell like a woman," he challenged.

Mercedes paused, then arched her eyebrow again. "What filthy little thoughts are flittin' through your mind, Evans?"

He shrugged and began a light caress of her knee and lower thigh. "There's nothing filthy about me wanting to make love to you, Mercedes." She gasped and froze, and he kissed her lips reassuringly. "Not today. But hopefully someday?"

Her eyes were closed when he pulled back, a slight frown marring her beautiful features. "What's wrong, lady?"

She bowed her head and shrugged. "Nothing, I just…can't believe you'd want to do that with me."

"Hey…" Sam used his free hand to bring her chin back up so their eyes could meet. "Why do you do that? In public, you're all 'take no prisoners' and proclaim to start sex riots; but with me, you get so shy and unsure."

She shook her head and shrugged again, obviously not really willing to get vulnerable but she did anyway. "Because when I say those things, you're not just agreeing to be nice, or because you think I'm saying it to get laughs, although I can admit part of me was and does."

Sam was so confused. "You are so beautiful _and_ sexy, Mercedes," he said with complete sincerity, cupping her cheek. "Why would anyone think you declaring that fact be funny?" He felt her tremble beneath her and he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"You mean besides that _Muckraker_ article?" Mercedes snorted and ducked her head. "But the way you speak to me sometimes, Sam, so full of awe and wonder, never fails to make me flutter." She blew out a breath. "I won't say I've never been called beautiful before, my family says so all the time…but it's different when it's not family, and I rarely get that kind of feedback—even from Kurt." She shrugged once more. "And honestly, I thought you were way out of my league, Evans. Still do, sometimes."

He frowned at her. "Oh, c'mon—"

"Part of the reason why I made Puck work for it so hard? Because everything came too easy for him; and for once, _I _was the one who had the power, little big me, the dweeb, slushie magnet. That kind of power was addicting," Mercedes confessed.

"You haven't acted that way with me," Sam pointed out.

"You've also never slushied me or thrown my best friend in the dumpster for laughs, either," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes.

"But you like Puck now?" He thought of his earlier conversation with the Hudson-Hummels. "And Quinn?"

Mercedes nodded. "They've changed—Quinn was the first nonfamily member to call me beautiful and sometimes Puck plays guitar for our church band; says he likes to get his gospel on!"

The revelation about Quinn reminded Sam why he'd fallen for Quinn in the first place, but his jaw tightened at Puck's. "I can play guitar…"

She giggled and kissed him. "Yes, you can, baby, but you go to a different church."

"I want to come to yours," he said against her lips.

Mercedes nodded and pulled back, cupping his jaw. "If you don't mind being one of the three white people in church, feel free. I'll ask Quinn if she wants to come, too; the congregation still asks after her."

"And then you can come to my church with Quinn," Sam said.

She nodded again. "All right."

"Yes, but back to me being out of your league—" Mercedes groaned and he tickled her slightly, letting her know he'd been on to her trying to derail their initial conversation. "I thought you were out of my universe!" Sam said, using his hand to wave wildly at her ceiling. "No way you'd be interested in even being my friend! Let alone what we are now."

Mercedes looked at him skeptically. "But you pulled Quinn…_and_ Santana…"

"Quinn was there when I was first slushied, and she was the head cheerleader and beautiful. Of course I'd be drawn to her," Sam said with a shrug, placing his hand on her knee again. "Santana is hot, in your face, knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it; and after my experience with Quinn, I couldn't turn that down."

"And I basically called you a two-timer and asked you out on a pity date," Mercedes muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Where I had the best night of my life since I'd even moved to Lima," Sam said, "With you."

Her eyebrow rose. "And Rachel."

Sam scowled slightly. "Rachel hung out with Jesse most the night…and did you know she'd asked me out before?" he asked. "Turned her down."

Mercedes nodded. "Understandable. She wasn't over Finn."

"And she's not my type."

"Now, you's a liar, because you're with me, and I'm just as diva as she is!"

Sam laughed and kissed her nose. "I love your brand of diva, lady." He moved down to her mouth and brought her hips flush against his. "I love your brand of everything."

They didn't say much after that, her kisses turning his mind sluggish and flooding his body full of lust. She didn't protest when he pressed her into the bedding and her legs opened automatically for him. He slid his hands underneath her tank and felt her body ripple in response. He wanted more, _needed_ more, especially when her body writhed underneath his.

Because they'd always had this crazy nonverbal connection since the moment they'd become friends, Sam understood her body language and began pushing up her tank. She tensed for a quick moment, then, in a move that apparently surprised both of them given the way her eyes widened, she lifted her arms for him to remove the tank completely.

"Fuck," he whispered once he did, and she trembled in response. "You damn well could start a sex riot."

Mercedes loosed a nervous giggle that became tangled in a grunt when his hands, still smudged with oil despite the thorough cleaning he'd given them earlier, cupped her generous breasts. They were much larger than Quinn's and much softer than Santana's, and he groaned while she panted at the feel of her nipples against his palms.

They were perfect.

"You okay?" he asked softly and she nodded. "Well, your face is scrunched up like I'm hurting you, and I could be because I love your tits so much—"

She groaned this time and gripped his hands, making him squeeze harder. "Jesus, Sam!"

Her exclamation startled him until his brain recognized it for what it was, and he smirked, nipping her jaw. "That's right…you like my, what did you say?, 'dirty trouty mouth'…"

She whimpered and he grew harder. He kissed her lower and lower until he finally reached a dark, distended nipple. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if she'd be offended if he told her it reminded him of a Hershey's Kiss, then opted not to say anything in favor of seeing if it tasted like one too.

Mercedes sobbed when he finally sucked her nipple into his mouth, her fingers tugging on his short hair. "Sam…"

She was more salty than sweet, but delicious nonetheless. He suckled her fully, moaning deep in his throat. His other hand rubbed and caressed her free breast, and those gasping breaths Mercedes took were driving him insane in a very good way.

Sam suddenly pulled back and yanked off his shirt, sighing softly when her hands homed in to his chest. He bent and kissed her wrists as he started tugging on her shorts to pull them down.

She grasped his hand hard. "Sam?"

"I'm making you come today, nothing more," he promised, but paused his movements. "May I?"

She looked down at his zipper and the bulge he couldn't hide behind it. "As long as I can make you come too."

He prayed for strength in Na'vi and kissed her, placing her hands at the button of his jeans.

"We won't take anything off, just…yeah…" he trailed off, for she'd already slid down his zipper and jeans then slipped her hand underneath the elastic of his boxers. Her fingers teased the hair that surrounded him before gently grasping his penis, and he hissed.

"You feel like silk," she whispered with a frown and stroked him experimentally. "I didn't know you could be soft and hard at the same time…"

"_Fuuuck_," Sam growled into the pillow, his arms growing weak from her stroking him that he'd lowered himself onto her. His dick poked through the hole of his boxers, looking like some sort of as-yet discovered Pandoran mushroom from _Avatar_ because he was so turned on. The only thing softer than Mercedes' hand would be Mercedes' pussy, and he almost came from the thought of it.

"Am I hurting y—?"

"No!" he shouted, panting from the energy it took to hold off his orgasm. He realized he was being very selfish considering his hands still gripped the elastic of her shorts, but he didn't trust himself not to jerk them down and shove his fingers inside of her in a most ungraceful manner.

"Am I doing it right?" she asked, pausing her strokes.

He laughed harshly. "Do it any more right and I'll be inside you."

He felt her nose brush his cheek and she resumed moving her hand. "Um…that's a bad thing?"

His brain stopped computing anything that made sense. "Don't tease me, 'Cedes, I'm barely holdin' on," he said gruffly.

"You feel really good, Sam, and…_oh, God_—" She sounded so embarrassed yet turned on that he needed to know what she was going to say.

"And what, Mercedes?" His grip tightened on her shorts. "Baby, you can tell me anything."

"I'm wet," she whispered, "and I'm _throbbing_ and I want you in me."

He came then, the pressure too much. Mercedes let out an exclamation but didn't stop jerking him off, and he felt her shudder underneath him. He framed her head with his forearms and breathed heavily in her ear, waiting for the stars to stop dancing behind his eyelids.

"Oh, wow," she said breathlessly.

"Did you come too?" he asked.

"Yeah, and you weren't even touching me!"

He laughed shakily. "I'm just that good, lady," he quipped, biting his lower lip because she still hadn't stopped stroking him.

"You're really soft now."

"I'm not gonna stay that way for long if you keep up."

"And I'm sticky…"

Sam finally lifted his face from the pillow. The glaze of her orgasm still lingered in her eyes and her lips were fuller than usual. Unable to resist, he ran his mouth along hers in a caress that made her giggle, and he smiled.

"If you let me go, I'll get something to clean us up."

"I like holding you _here_," Mercedes sassed and squeezed him.

He groaned but decided to play her game and take one of her nipples between his teeth. She gasped and squeezed him harder, so he sucked her harder. Finally, Mercedes relinquished her hold and he immediately jumped up from her.

"Behave, Miz Jones," he warned. She pouted and looked down at herself. His come was all over the crotch of her shorts and some was on her stomach.

"That's interesting," she said placidly.

"_So_ sorry!" he apologized, getting a whole wad of tissues from the box on her nightstand and wiping away his ejaculate. "You must think I'm such a loser—"

"I think you're adorable," she said softly, and he looked at her to see her smiling shyly at him. "And _hot as hell_ and, for some reason, mine."

His grin was shy in return, and he balled up the used tissues, tossing them perfectly in the wastebasket by her nightstand. He then started caressing her bare belly, sweeping wider and lower until she grasped his hand.

"As much as I want you, baby," she whispered, licking her lips. "And _Lord knows_ I do, I really am not ready. I'm sorry, Sam."

He kissed her forehead sweetly. "Don't apologize, lady. I can wait, I promise."

In fact, he helped her slip her tank back on and turned his head when she changed her bottoms. Only when he heard her huff did he turn around.

"And I should get you home too," she mumbled, looking at her clock on her nightstand, "my parents will be here soon and them seeing you here is a discussion I'd rather not have after all of this!"

Ten minutes later they were in front of the Chang house, his uneaten lukewarm Chinese in his lap. Sam cupped the back of Mercedes' head and kissed her long and deep in goodbye.

"Talk to you," she said, brushing her thumb against his lower lip.

He nodded and kissed her again. "Love you."

Later, as he ate his tepid chicken fried rice over the Changs' kitchen sink, he contemplated what would be the best belated birthday gift for a girl who asked for very little but always gave so much in return.


	14. Full Circle

**Title:** Full Circle  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mercedes realizes things have a way of coming back around.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>For the first time since Glee began this school year, Mercedes Jones decided to sit beside Sam; and from the way he immediately brightened at her seat selection, she knew she'd made the right choice.<p>

After almost seventeen years of watching everyone else fall into and out of love, Mercedes had made a vow never to be one of those clingy girlfriends, which seemed to be the M.O. of just about every girl in glee club once she got a partner. Granted, it'd been easy to keep the promise when she and Sam had been playing it cool; but it'd been almost two weeks since Sam had basically declared his love to the entire school during the morning announcements and she'd not sat beside him once. Sam had never brought it up, but his eyes would dull a little whenever she'd decided to sit by Kurt (her usual seat buddy) or Artie or Quinn or even Santana.

"Is it my birthday?" he whispered in her ear after kissing her cheek.

"You're so silly," she said, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks grew warm, particularly when he let his arm rest on the back of her chair.

That was the most they did to show they were a couple; otherwise, they listened to Mr. Schuester and started brainstorming ideas for Sectionals. They wanted to return to Nationals and win this time, and Mr. Schue was determined they would be better prepared than they'd been for the previous two years. As usual, Rachel tried to dominate the entire rehearsal and the preliminary set list, but it was actually Brittany who suggested it might be time to elect new glee captains.

"That is a _terrible_ idea!" Rachel said on a gasp. "Finn—!"

"Actually, I think it's brilliant," Quinn said but without the underlying bite she'd usually had. "We've gotten stale, unfortunately. Maybe new leadership will not only give us an outright win at Sectionals but also encourage new students to audition in time for Regionals."

"Cool, then I nominate Mercedes, Tina, and Artie," Brittany said.

"Seconded!" Mike said enthusiastically, kissing a shocked Tina on the cheek.

Rachel shot up from her seat and went to the floor by Mr. Schue. "That is insane! Whoever heard of _three_ co-captains—?"

"The Warblers had three," Kurt said evenly.

Rachel gaped at him as if he were a traitor. "And they lost to _us—_!"

"Tied during Sectionals, though," Kurt reminded her on a sigh. "And for the record, I third those nominations." Artie slapped his hand in gratitude.

Rachel almost squealed with indignation. "Mr. Schue—!"

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Mr. Schue said with a shrug. "But a motion's been put forth and seconded—thirded, actually. "Any other nominations?"

"Finn and I!"

"Okay…" Mr. Schue went to the board to write down all the nominations. "Anyone else?" No one spoke. "All right, everyone who wants—"

"Wait," Mercedes said, "shouldn't you ask if we even _want_ these nominations—?"

"And you should give a speech on why you_ think_ you three could be better co-captains," Rachel challenged. "Finn and I don't need to since our track record speaks for us."

"Two humiliating losses—one at Regionals and one at Nationals. That alone should get you ousted," Santana said snarkily.

Rachel glared and started to respond but Mercedes stood slowly, Sam squeezing her shoulder in warming. "Don't make her cry," he said in a stage whisper.

"Although it would be hilarious if you did," Lauren added, and Santana snickered with her.

"Guys," Mr. Schue chastised.

"Why do I think Artie, Tina, and I could be better co-captains than you and Finn?" Mercedes repeated slowly.

"Oh, crap," Finn muttered but Mercedes ignored him.

"For starters, we're well aware this is the William McKinley High _glee club_, _not_ the Rachel Berry and Her Horde of Background Singers Extravaganza! And so, yeah, considering Tina and I were _original_ members and, hell, my name was even the _first one_ on the audition list, I _would_ like to be featured for _once_ in a competition, and I'm sure Tina would, too; but we know when to leave our egos at the door, which is something _you_ still struggle with doing."

"Tell it!" Artie cheered.

"_Also_, you're not the only one who knows music. Tina and Artie both play instruments and I do vocal arrangements at my church. We could sound current and _dope_ and not our grandma's Top 40 or the damn Disney Channel!"

"Word on that!" Tina added.

"And _finally_, Rachel," Mercedes said, just now aware she was in the other girl's face but she was so irritated she didn't care. "Up until this very moment I wasn't sure my name should be included, but then I realized Tina, Artie, and I put in a lot of work for this club, more than you realize, it seems. Tina does choreography with Brittany and Mike, some vocal coaching for some of our weaker singers with Mr. Schue, and fills in on piano when Brad or the Jazz Band can't come to rehearsal. Artie helps the boys learn their parts because he's the quickest study of them all and even helps the Jazz Band with instrumental arrangements. And as for myself, I do costumes with Kurt and assist with vocal arrangements with _you_. So, now, tell me, how is it we're not qualified to be co-captains?"

Absolutely no one said a word after Mercedes finished talking, and she stepped out of Rachel's personal space with a contrite glance in the girl's direction now that her irritation passed.

She sighed. "Ra—"

"Well, I'm sold!" Puck said. "Put me down for Artie, Tina, and Sexy Mama!"

"How is _that_ for a speech, Berry?" Lauren asked with a smirk. "They get my vote, too, Mr. Schue."

The rest of the glee club's hands went up—even Finn's—and Mercedes felt as if she'd suddenly been dropped in Bizarro World.

"So that's twelve to—" Rachel's hand went up, interrupting Mr. Schue's tally, "unanimous! Congratulations, you three!"

Mercedes bit her lip and grinned a little. "I'm gonna hug you now."

"And I'm going to let you," Rachel said, and the two squeezed each other tightly. Mercedes then gave hugs to Artie and Tina before returning to her seat next to Sam. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

"You were so hot, lady," he praised. Mercedes laughed and slapped his arm lightly.

"I can't believe that actually happened," she said, taking a deep breath. "When glee started, I actually nominated Rachel and now…"

"Growth, babe," Sam said. "You weren't ready then and she was. I think change is a good thing sometimes. And it's not like Rachel will be completely out of the picture—"

"I heard that, Sam," Rachel said primly, smoothing down her plaid skirt.

"Accurate assessment is accurate, though," Artie said, "but that's a good thing, because we'll need input from everyone."

"Definitely. We won't be dictators, guys," Tina added. "Everyone's opinion is valued, even if some of the suggestions won't be used."

"This is really great, guys," Mr. Schue commended. "I'm excited for what's to come!"

When glee club ended, Mercedes, Tina, and Artie had a brief meeting afterwards to discuss when they'd want to meet, Mike and Sam sitting in because they were waiting on their girlfriends. Since the best time was after a glee club rehearsal given Artie's football practice and games, they decided on Thursday evenings after glee ended. Mr. Schue said that would be perfect, and Tina suggested they make the meetings open-door so that whoever wanted to attend could.

"Great idea," Artie said. "Full transparency is always a good thing."

"So, next Thursday we start?" Mercedes asked, and the other two nodded. She slapped their hands, happy they were all in agreement.

They all said goodbye to Mr. Schue and went to the parking lot together where Artie's dad was waiting. After saying goodbye to Artie one last time, foursome continued to their respective vehicles.

"I am so proud of you," Mike whispered against Tina's lips.

"Yeah, I'm kinda proud of me too," she said, hugging Mike tightly. "And that was an epically awesome speech you gave, Mercedes!"

Mercedes hid her head in Sam's chest as he hugged her to him. "Thanks…just off the top of my head, really…"

"But you were right," Tina insisted. "We totally deserve a shot to lead."

"You three will be awesome," Sam predicted. "Didn't know it was possible to be even more excited about glee than I already was!"

"I know!" Mike agreed and kissed Mercedes' cheek. "Wanna come by my place to celebrate? My mom's making stir fry!"

"Yes!" Tina and Sam cheered, high fiving each other, but Mercedes hesitated.

"I don't want to impose—"

"First, you're _never_ an imposition," Mike assured her, "and second, my mom always makes a lot to share, so c'mon…for all of us?"

They gave her puppy-dog faces, Sam going the extra mile to nuzzle his in her neck, and she acquiesced with a giggle.

After texting her parents, she followed Mike to his house with Tina choosing to ride with her and go over some preliminary plans for glee. Mercedes agreed they should start scouting underclassmen so the club could be in good shape for next year and ignored the little twist in her heart at the reminder this was her last year in glee.

Dinner was wonderful and Mercedes had to remind herself of the home training her parents taught her and not be greedy, because Mrs. Chang's stir fry was slamming. After everyone had finished eating, the group sat around the table for about twenty minutes more just talking, Mike and Sam dominating the conversation by gushing about their girlfriends with pride. Eventually, the Changs left the kids at the table, Mrs. Chang giving them all, including Mercedes, a kiss to the forehead while Mr. Chang gave Mike some instructions in Cantonese.

"I love it when he speaks Chinese," Tina said in Mercedes' ear as Mike responded to his retreating parents, and Mercedes snickered.

"I can relate somewhat," she said, "when Sam's Tennessee drawl kicks in, it makes me hot!"

The two boys looked over at them with raised eyebrows and smirks. Tina blew them a kiss.

It was Sam's night to clean up, so Mercedes helped with the task while Mike dropped Tina home. Mercedes asked him what he would like to do in glee this year and mentally noted his suggestions. A country music/bluegrass selection didn't sound like such a bad idea; and she actually thought he and Tina would sound good on a duet in that genre.

"But enough about glee," he said and wrung out the rag he'd used to wipe down the counters. After draping the rag on the lip of the sink, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. She'd just finished washing the last pot and set in in the drying rack, grinning as Sam peppered her temple and cheek with kisses.

"What do you want to talk about, then?" she asked, spinning around to face him.

He smirked again and brushed his nose against hers. "Who said anything about talking?"

She was laughing when his mouth met hers, but it quickly turned into moaning once tongues became involved. Hands weren't idle as they roamed each other's bodies, Sam's hands immediately sliding under her shirt and bra to massage her breasts. She groaned loudly into his mouth, her hands sneaking beneath his jeans and boxers to cup his ass.

"Shit," he cursed against his lips and bucked into her. She felt his hardness and ground her crotch into his in return. "_Mercy_—!"

"Are you asking for _me_, or are you asking for _it_?" she asked against his jaw line, squeezing his firm tush for emphasis.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his mouth drifting along her forehead. "I wasn't aware there was a difference…"

Grinning she stood on her tiptoes and met his mouth with hers again. She wished they had more freedom and time to explore each other, but it was pushing eight-thirty and it was a school night.

"I gotta go, babe," she said against his lips and drew her hands from his pants. He was much slower in relinquishing his hold on her breasts and she couldn't help chuckling.

"I _really_ need a repeat of the other night, lady," he said gruffly, not bothering to pull away.

Her face went warm but she nodded. "Me, too, Sam."

Mercedes forbade him from crossing the threshold of the house, knowing if he walked her all the way to her car she wouldn't actually get in it for another thirty minutes. He tried to stall her further with his lips and hands once they reached the Changs' front door, but she had enough sense to know thirty extra minutes on a school night wasn't worth being grounded for the entire weekend.

Her decision paid off, for Quinn sent out an e-mail later that night inviting the entire club over to her house after Friday's game. She asked her parents if she could go the next morning and they granted their permission.

"If you decide to stay over, let us know," her father had told her with a kiss to the forehead.

The offer made Mercedes' eyes brighten and she told Quinn about it right after their first-period class. The unsure smile and tight hug the girl gave her in response confused Mercedes for a moment, but she returned it wholeheartedly. Apparently, something was going on with her soul sister, so a sleepover would definitely have to happen for Mercedes to get to the bottom of it.

Artie took the lead during the next glee club meeting, showing them a suggestions box he'd made even though it was really an empty tissue box with a typed-up sign on it, and said if anyone wanted to crash in on the co-captain meetings, it was allowed. Mercedes didn't sit beside Sam this time, opting for Quinn because she was concerned about her friend, especially since Quinn held her hand from the start of glee club and didn't let go until the end.

"We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?" Mercedes said as they stood by her car in the senior parking lot, and jumped slightly when she felt a tender hand on her shoulder.

Santana. "You're coming, right?" the brunette asked. "To the party?"

Mercedes nodded. "Sleeping over, in fact."

"Oh! Can I too?" Santana asked. "Maybe we can make it a girls' night! It's been a while since we could all dish…"

"I'll ask my mom, but I don't see that being a problem…" Quinn said, hugging Mercedes once more.

"Can I sleep over too?"

Mercedes grinned and rolled her eyes, watching Quinn and Santana walk away. "Are you a girl?"

"Coach Sylvester does call me lady lips…"

She giggled and turned to Sam, who immediately brushed those lips against hers. "Sorry, that doesn't count; try again…"

"You don't have to worry about that," Sam said, pulling her closer to him and kissing her again.

"But you can still come to the party, and hopefully we'll be celebrating a victory?" Mercedes said, arching an eyebrow as she curled her arms about his waist.

"I think we can pull one out…even with Finn at quarterback—"

"Heard that!"

Mercedes looked around Sam to see Finn and Rachel coming out of the building, arms interlocked. Sam didn't even bother to turn around, too busy dropping kisses along Mercedes' temple.

"You two are ridiculously adorable," Rachel announced.

Mercedes hugged Sam shyly but smiled. "Thank you."

"And we're _so_ gonna win, _especially_ because I'm at quarterback—!"

"Damn right!" Puck proclaimed, one hand firmly locked around Lauren's and slapped Finn's hand with his free one. "The HudMan duo kicks ass!"

"Yeah, but Evans here knows how to handle a pigskin," Lauren said and winked at the blond.

"Hey! What have I told you about that wanderin' eye, Zises?" Puck asked sharply.

"It always ends back up on you, Puckerman, calm down," Lauren replied nonchalantly, but gave him a kiss that was anything but.

"I think I'm too young to see that," Mercedes mumbled into Sam's chest.

"And I don't think we'll ever be old enough!" Sam cracked in return.

However, Mercedes was certainly old enough to see the McKinley High Titans pull off a win thanks to Sam's pick-six interception towards the end of the game. Brittany, Lauren, and Tina were the best buddies a girl could ask for to watch the game with because they were hilarious, especially Brittany, who also got a bit of a potty mouth when she watched football.

"So many times I wanted to say those things while a Cheerio, you have no idea," Brittany had confessed to the several shocked faces in her direction.

"You're my football BFF for real!" Mercedes declared, and laughed when her dad turned to them and rolled his eyes at that announcement. Mercedes laughed, hugging her father's neck from behind.

"Your young man can play, baby girl," Mr. Jones whispered in his daughter's ear.

"Yeah, I think I'll keep him," she replied, kissing her father's cheek and pretending not to notice the raised eyebrows her parents shared.

The Chang and Jones families waited outside by the locker rooms for Mike and Sam, congratulating other members of the football team as they left. When Mike and Sam appeared, Tina immediately launched herself into Mike's arms while Mercedes waited for Sam to approach instead.

"Really good playing out there, son," Mr. Jones said, shaking Sam's hand while Mrs. Jones led another round of cheering.

Mercedes could see him blush. "Thank you, sir, everyone."

"And I want to thank _you_ for that lovely white rose you had delivered to me today," Mrs. Jones continued with a kiss to his cheek.

Sam turned even redder, his eyes skipping over to a surprised Mercedes briefly. "Ah, you're welcome, Mrs. Jones."

"Yeah, one of these days we'll have dinner…and a little chat…" Mr. Jones added, looking pointedly at Mercedes, and Sam's eyes went very wide at that.

"Uh—yes, sir—yeah—" He cleared his throat, not quite able to hide the panicked look he sent Mercedes.

Thankfully, her parents stopped scaring the crap out of her boyfriend and the adults told them not to have _too_ much fun at Quinn's party. Sam decided to ride with her to Quinn's house, and Mercedes realized this was because he wanted to steal a few moments to make out with her against the trunk of her car.

"We're gonna be _late_," she warned in his ear before burying her face into his neck. He smelled so crisp and clean, his hair still damp and slightly spiky from the shower he took.

"Quinn can wait; I can't," he mumbled against her temple, then pulled her head up so he could kiss her again.

Sam's mouth made her drunk and turned her mind to mush. Somehow she ended up on the trunk of her car with Sam thrusting his hips between her thighs when a sharp beep of the horn startled them apart. Mercedes clutched Sam and he went tense, as if ready to handle something about to pop off, but the whoops and hollers coming from a passing car had Mercedes hiding her face in embarrassment.

"I reckon we should go now," he said laughingly, pulling her face from his chest.

"Go die, you mean!" Mercedes cracked and wiped traces of her lipstick from his mouth, but she pecked a quick kiss to his chin and scrambled off the trunk.

The drive to Quinn's house was full of the radio and Sam laughing at whomever he was texting. She didn't mind the lack of conversation, needing the time to cool down from the lust surging through her veins. It was getting harder and harder to control herself around him, to the point she wondered if she should bother to try anymore.

"Wait a second," Sam said when she parked a few houses down from Quinn's; the rest of the glee club had already taken the prime spaces.

"Yes?"

He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and smoothed down the rest with his wide hands. "There. Just as adorable as you wanna be."

She sighed dreamily, something she thought she'd _never_ do. "You doing things like that make me think this party is a severe waste of time…"

He winked at her and started to get out. "It won't be; I promise."

Mercedes almost had her second heart attack in a ten-minute span upon entering Quinn's house, for the entire glee club yelled "Surprise!" the moment they appeared. After she got her heart to beat close to its normal rate, she looked at them all bewildered, but especially Sam.

"You win us the game and they make this a surprise party for you?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"No, not for me. For _you_."

She frowned at him. "I don't understand. I haven't done anything."

Quinn and Santana stepped up, but Quinn appeared on the verge of tears. "This is a surprise birthday party for you."

Mercedes' eyes narrowed. "It's not my birthday, though."

"It was a month ago today," Quinn explained, her lips quivering and her eyes brimming. "And a month ago today, four years ago, we did something incredibly mean to someone who would become like a sister to me so…this is my apology…four years and a month late, but I hope you'll accept it, Mercedes."

Mercedes started shaking her head, though more to deny the tears that threatened to fall than because she rejected anything Quinn had said. "But I don't understand; you didn't need to do this…"

"Yes, we did," Santana replied this time. "About a week ago your boyfriend here called Quinn about what she did to you and then _he _cussed_ me _out because he'd figured out I'd been in on it—"

"I did not!" Sam defended himself. "Mercedes, I _swear_—"

Santana paused. "Oh, yeah, that was Kurt—"

"Oh, my God, we sound _nothing_ alike!" Kurt complained, and continued arguing his case to Blaine who squeezed Kurt's shoulder and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yep, it was definitely Kurt who called me," Santana murmured, as if having an epiphany moment. "But you did call Quinn, Sam—"

"Why didn't anyone call me? I love playing Telephone," Brittany said dejectedly, and Lauren gave her back a comforting pat.

"But, seriously, Mercedes, we were all really douchey back then and we're sorry," Finn said.

"And if Tina and I had known you, we so would've gone to your party—"

"First," Tina interrupted, shrugging apologetically at her boyfriend's chastising look. "What? We were _thirteen_, Mike—eat or be eaten—"

"I don't think that's helping," Artie said, and Tina stuck her tongue out at them.

"But, it's all good now, because we're gonna party hearty!" Puck said, doing a weird, not-quite-pop-locking move to Mercedes and yanked her into his chest. "Berry, drop tha _beat_!"

The party didn't stop until after midnight. Along with the dancing were even cake and a gift of DVDs featuring a bootleg version of _Aida_ and _The Color Purple_ from Broadway.

"Let me know if the DVDs don't work," Artie had said when she opened the gifts.

"Yeah, some of Abrams's contacts are…eh…a _little_ suspect…" Lauren had added with a smirk at Artie who made a face in return.

"And, really, don't tell us if you don't like the cake," Tina had pleaded, handing Mercedes a plate of the chocolate confection.

"We did our best, but we're not as good as you or Kurt," Brittany had said apologetically.

"Everything's perfect," Mercedes had declared, getting teary once more. She'd felt as if she'd been holding court with Quinn on her left and Kurt on her right, and Sam standing at her back behind the couch. It'd been an odd feeling, even a little uncomfortable, but in that moment she knew she would always consider these people in the room her family…even if she wanted to strangle some of occasionally.

When Quinn's mom came into the room to give the guys (plus Kurt, despite his campaigning) the ten-minute warning, Mercedes left the house to grab the overnight bag she'd left in the car and mentally willed Sam to follow. She smiled to herself when she heard the front door open and close behind her and waited until Sam pulled level. She weaved her arm through his and he kissed the top of her head as they continued to her car. Once there, Mercedes turned to Sam and slipped her arms around his waist inside his letterman jacket, and his arms came around her shoulders.

"Why?" she asked simply, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

"Because you deserved it," he answered just as simply. "The entire time I've know you, I realized I didn't know something as basic as your birthday, and that bothered me. So I asked Finn, and he didn't know; but Mr. Hummel did…told me the story of what had gone down…"

Mercedes nodded. She'd never been more humiliated in her life up to that point, but her mother had wiped her tears and told her to march through that school the next Monday as if she'd owned it, and that was exactly was she'd done. But Mercedes hadn't been stupid, either. She made sure not to bring attention to herself anymore, which meant no more large parties; but then high school had happened, and she wasn't too selfish to not share the gifts God had given her—namely her fashion sense and her voice.

"But you didn't have to make Quinn do this," she told him.

"I didn't. Yeah, I called her about it, because I'd been mad and hadn't realized y'all hadn't been friends the entire time—well, actually I'd called Kurt first and he's the one who told me I should call Quinn to get her side and then apparently he'd called Santana, but I didn't find out about that until later…"

Mercedes held him closer. "This was still unnecessary."

"It's never unnecessary to celebrate the birth of my love," Sam said quietly in her hair. "You did it for me, remember?"

"You were leaving…"

"And that birthday gift was what?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Fine, it counts!"

He chuckled. "I know. People are allowed to do nice things for you, lady. People are allowed to show you they care for you just for being you, not only for what you do for them."

"And that flower to my mom?" she asked, now having the opportunity since he wasn't distracting her with kisses.

"A thank you for bringing you into this world."

Mercedes hid her face in his chest. Just when she'd thought she'd finished falling in love with Sam, he had to go say or do something that proved she wasn't done by a long shot. Then she heard hollering and knew Quinn's mom had made the boys leave the party. "I think that's my cue…"

Sam lifted her face and kissed her tenderly in reply.

He carried her bag for her back to Quinn's house with Mercedes stopping to hug the boys as they left, giving an exceptionally large one to Kurt. She heard Sam growl when Puck hugged her a little too enthusiastically with a smacking kiss to her lips that had, admittedly, left her a little dazed.

"Damn, should've gone in for the kill more often when we were together, sexy!" Puck murmured, blinking a bit as well.

"Don't worry, next time you pull a stunt like that, _I_ will, and I won't miss—!"

"Okay!" Mercedes interrupted, tugging on Sam's arm with a squeeze to continue on to the house.

"Birthday kisses! It's a tradition—Jewish, I'm sure, I'll consult the Torah…" Puck trailed off with Finn jerking him along.

Sam's expression was still mutinous when they reached the door, so Mercedes caressed his cheek and kissed him all over his face.

"You looked like you enjoyed it, though," Sam said with a pout though he returned her kisses warmly.

"Well, it _is_ Puck—"

He grumbled.

"But he's not _you_, okay?" Mercedes soothed, kissing his lips harder. "His kiss didn't make me think of the Fourth of July or my Mama's lemonade or just…I dunno…"

"Your Grandma's chocolate chip cookies?" Sam supplied with a grin and squeezed her. "That's what I think of a lot when I kiss you."

Mercedes laughed. "That works too."

The door opened and Santana struck an alluring pose in the doorframe. "All right, Froggy, give one more kiss to Aretha here and then beat it. We have serious girl talk to do and the sun rises too soon for my liking."

"That's how it usually is for demons of the night," Sam muttered, but Santana just puckered her lips at him and took Mercedes' bag from him before sashaying away.

"But I best go," Sam admitted with a kiss to Mercedes' forehead. "Shouldn't keep Mike waiting too long."

She waited at the door until Mike's car passed by Quinn's house, both boys waving at her as it did. She felt arms go about her waist and a chin rest on her shoulder, and Mercedes grinned.

"Ready for the _real_ fun to begin?" Quinn asked.

Mercedes grinned, doing their special fist bump. "Oh, _hell_ to the yeah!"


	15. On the Hot Seat

**Title:** On the Hot Seat  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Jones Family  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Papa Jones has some questions for Sam Evans.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam fiddled with the buttons on the cuffs of his suit jacket and tried very much not to squirm. Why hadn't he taken it off? Church had ended hours ago, and the service had been amazing—much livelier and more inspiring than the sermons he was used to hearing at his usual church. Perhaps it was the way music wove into every aspect of the service; the organ was rarely not playing while the reverend had a melodic tone to his delivery…and then there was Mercedes—she'd had a solo that had moved him so much Quinn had snuck a tissue in his hand so he could dab his eyes. He didn't feel so bad, though, because she'd had her own tissue as well.<p>

"She'd sung it for me, first time I came to church with her," Quinn had told him with a watery smile. "Bawled like a baby."

Sam had held her hand throughout the rest of the service, each giving the other support.

"You nervous, son? You seem nervous…"

He certainly could use some now.

Sam breathed deeply, his green eyes growing wide. A comment sprang on his tongue, but it was in Na'vi, so he immediately clamped his mouth and nodded. His tongue ran along his bottom lip and he wished he'd had the foresight to slip a tube of ChapStick in his pocket, but his saliva would have to do for now.

"Good, you should be."

Sam gulped. This was not what he'd been expecting. He'd thought Mr. Jones had liked him! They'd talked _Star Wars_ shop, _Star Trek_ shop, even _Starship Troopers_ shop during various meetings before now, and he and Mr. Jones had had a lot of fun smack talking the NFL game that afternoon while Mrs. Jones and Mercedes cooked Sunday dinner—well, Mrs. Jones did most of it; Mercedes spent almost as much time watching the game in her flour-dusted apron over her Sunday dress and yelling at the television with her Spatula of Doom as she did actually preparing anything—

"Are you even listening to me, son?"

Sam jerked, returning to the here and now. "Sorry, sir."

"Am I _boring_ you?"

"No, sir!"

Mr. Jones arched an eyebrow, crossing two burly arms across his barrel chest. Sam thought he was the most intimidating dentist he'd ever seen in his life, but it was obvious he was well loved by the way little kids would run up to him after McKinley football games to give him "low-fives". Also when Mercedes's parents had introduced Sam to the congregation as Mercedes' friend during the service, earning a guitar riff from Puck who'd been in church that day pinch-hitting for the regular guitarist, apparently, Mr. Jones had appeared amiable at best. Even Quinn considered him a second dad, calling him Papa Jones the way Mercedes called Kurt's dad Papa Burt; and after service had ended, Mr. Jones had held Quinn just as tightly as he'd held Mercedes. "My two girls," he'd called them, kissing each on the top of the head. In fact, the only reason why both Quinn and Puck hadn't come back to the Jones house for dinner was because Quinn was spending the rest of the day with her mother and Puck had taken her home.

_How convenient!_ Sam thought darkly. He wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Jones had arranged the entire disappearance!

Mr. Jones clapped loudly and Sam jumped, wincing even as he did so. "Right, so let's cut to the chase since you have the attention span as wide as a tooth's enamel—what are your intentions with my daughter?"

Sam gulped again, gripping his knees tightly. "My intentions with you daughter are honorable."

"I want nouns, Evans, not adjectives," Mr. Jones replied. "Better yet—verbs are even better."

Sam blinked stupidly at him. "Um, I'm not the greatest at English, my dyslexia…"

Mr. Jones's expectant expression didn't change.

Sam nodded and rubbed his thighs before gripping his knees again. "I intend to love your daughter."

"You're seventeen; what do you know about love?"

"I know I love my parents and my siblings," Sam said and shrugged, "so I figure I can know I love Mercedes."

"I'm choosing not to take that as a smart-ass answer," Mr. Jones said with a sharp nod. "But what about Quinn?" Sam's eyes widened and Mr. Jones smirked a little. "Oh, yes, baby girl tells us just about everything, even when she thinks she doesn't."

"Sir, I—"

"I knew after prom that you weren't just a friend anymore," Mr. Jones said. "She told us all about it, but when she spoke about you her voice would change. She didn't say your name the way she would say Kurt's or the other boys in her classes. She said your name the way my wife says mine."

Sam was sure he was as red as a ripe tomato with his eyes as wide as they. "Oh…but we didn't—we weren't—"

"I know," Mr. Jones said again. "It was apparent it was one-sided—"

"It hadn't been," Sam said, shaking his head as his mind replayed that night. He grinned a little, remembering that moment when he held her in his arms for their very first dance how something had "clicked" inside of him. He hadn't understood it then, but it'd been so nice to feel so easy around a girl for _once_ that he'd not contemplated it further at the time.

"So, now I'm curious how you go from giving one girl a promise ring of marriage and then tell me with a straight face you love my daughter," Mr. Jones said with faux confusion.

Sam frowned. "But I do—"

"You haven't given Mercedes any promise rings, have you?"

Sam shook his head emphatically.

Mr. Jones sighed. "Well, that's good—"

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt but, I thought you liked me…"

"Oh, I do; and that's why we're having this talk, because I want to continue to like you beyond the lifespan of your relationship with Mercedes."

Sam's brows furrowed. "Lifespan?"

"The time between beginning and end?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I have no intentions of my relationship with Mercedes ending."

Mr. Jones raised a brow. "Another verb, Evans?"

Confusion flitted across his face, but he decided to go with his gut answer. "Yes."

Mr. Jones chuckled. "You're as transparent as a window, son; this is good news."

"All right…"

"Means I'll know when you're lying."

Sam's eyes went wide again.

"Have you dated outside your race before?"

"Santana Lopez counts, right?"

Mr. Jones chuckled. "Santana's aunt does my daughter's hair; so, yeah, I'd say so!"

Sam wasn't quite sure about the relevance of that fact, but he decided to go with it.

Mr. Jones chuckled again. "You got a lot to learn, son."

"Yes," Sam agreed, going with his gut again.

"Glad you know this," Mr. Jones said and looked at him appraisingly. "Have you had any problems yet?"

Sam started to shake his head, then he shrugged a shoulder. "There was a mean article about her weight, but she handled that. I was too busy doubling as a couch to help."

It was Mr. Jones's turn to be confused. "Ah—"

"The guys sat on me so I wouldn't go and punch the dude in the face," Sam explained with a glower.

Mr. Jones eyed him. "And is that going to be your response anytime someone is disrespectful to my daughter?"

Sam shrugged again.

Mr. Jones sighed but relaxed his posture, bending forward with his arms on his thighs. "Can I be honest with you, Sam?"

"Please."

Mr. Jones nodded. "I wasn't all that thrilled when I realized my daughter was in love with you."

Sam jerked as if slapped. "Mr.—"

"Nothing personal, Sam," Mr. Jones assured him, but that really didn't make Sam feel much better. "But it's hard living in this town sometimes—in this _country_. Yes, progress has been made, and we've tried to teach Mercedes to never make a value judgment about someone based on looks alone; but we also told her unfortunately people won't extend the same courtesy to her. The last thing a parent wants to see is his child choosing a hard road to travel; but if that child does, a parent needs to make sure that child is equipped with the best tools she can have in order to make it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You think I'm a tool," Sam said flatly and with a little edge.

Mr. Jones glared at him a little but shook his head. "No, I mean my daughter's life would've been easier if she'd fallen in love with someone black."

He reeled; that one felt more like a sucker punch. "Has she…_said_ something to you—?"

"No," Mr. Jones said, shaking his head. "This is solely a father's concern for his daughter—"

"Are you forbidding me from seeing her?" Sam asked over him, unable to mask the panic in his voice, but he didn't give Mr. Jones a chance to respond. "But Kurt and Quinn and—Puck! Did you give this talk to him?"

At that, Mr. Jones threw back his head and laughed. "Puck didn't even warrant a consideration for this talk!"

Sam frowned at Mr. Jones's reaction. "Why? He dated Mercedes…"

"Puck couldn't break my baby girl's heart. You can."

That simple statement took all the wind out of Sam's self-righteous sails for a moment, but then he made a confession of his own. "Mercedes could break mine too." _And more than Quinn ever could_, he finished in his head.

"Yes, she could," Mr. Jones agreed, surprising Sam, "but she is my primary concern, you understand."

Sam nodded, for he did and took no offense.

"Mercedes doesn't bring people into her heart lightly; meaning, if you're there, you're there for good. So, now, I need to make sure my girl isn't an experiment to you, or a phase, or your version of 'slummin''," Mr. Jones said seriously. "Because if she is, I'd rather you just leave right now. Baby girl is resilient; she'll get over you eventually, but she ain't a puppet to string along—you feel me?"

Sam didn't know what he was supposed to say or do, so he kept still and quiet. He wasn't completely clueless; he knew racism still existed, but he never noticed it at McKinley or among his friends. And he wouldn't associate with people like that. His closest friends had been Latino and Chinese for Christ's sake!

"I don't want Mercedes to get over me," Sam ultimately said, and looked Mr. Jones directly in the eye. "Sir, I know there will be…issues…not just from outside people, but maybe even between us. I'm pretty sure that in my extended family there are some people who won't like her, and maybe even some in yours who won't like me. But I'm serious when I say I love your daughter. I'm not just in love with her; I _love_ Mercedes. I _like_ Mercedes. And I like this family. Yeah, it didn't work out with Quinn, but she's become one of my closest friends and I still love her too. So, um, I don't know exactly where I was going with this but she's not a game to me, Mr. Jones. Mercedes has never been a game, and I honestly can't ever see myself being over her."

Again, Sam weathered Mr. Jones's long, measured stare but this time didn't have the inclination to wriggle. His declaration had been clear and firm and as truthful as he could get. If Mr. Jones still wasn't satisfied, he didn't know what else he could do short of marrying Mercedes. And as much as that idea had a certain appeal, Sam was certain that wouldn't win any points from Mr. Jones.

The older man stood, towering over Sam, but held out a hand. Sam stood and took it, mildly surprised Mercedes' father didn't try to wring the blood out of his.

"You're a good kid, Sam," Mr. Jones began. "From a good family that unfortunately got sucked into the quagmire that is this economy. Now, I know it's impossible for you not to hurt my daughter; because intentions really can be the yellow brick road to hell sometimes, and I've made my wife cry more times than my soul is willing to admit and she's done some things to me that…yeah. But we make a good-faith effort every day, and that's what I need from the person with my daughter—_irrespective_ of color, you understand?"

"Yes, good faith efforts are good," Sam reiterated with a nod.

Mr. Jones rolled his eyes but grinned, using his free hand to squeeze Sam's shoulder paternally. "All right, we're done for now. But…I'm here if you need to talk—I've been with a Brewer woman for almost twenty-five years. I can give you some pointers if you need them."

"Brewer?"

"Who Mrs. Jones was before she deigned to marry me! Those Brewer women are somethin' else, but you're a lucky son of a gun if you get one!"

When they left Mr. Jones's home office, Sam heard disco music turned up loud and laughter. Singing joined in on the track, and Sam paused, his jaw dropping.

"Oh, yeah, and they're the best singers this side of a radio station too," Mr. Jones said with a little shimmy.

"They sound amazing," Sam murmured. Obviously, he'd heard Mercedes sing before; but even playing around she sounded phenomenal.

"Yeah, my wife loves herself some Phyllis Hyman—heard of her?" Sam shook his head. "Doesn't surprise me. She's a true unsung talent from back in the day. Was on Broadway—took the Missus to see her perform and she was outstanding…"

Sam finally saw Mercedes and her mother grooving to the song, the kitchen clean with Mercedes singing in an empty paper-towel tube and her mother using the sink spray as her microphone. Mrs. Jones spotted them first, and she winked at her husband before slinky her way down at up again.

"Goodnight you two," Mr. Jones said over the music, causing Mercedes to jump and look at them. She then pulled a disgusted face that only got worse when her father approached and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.

"Do you really have to announce it like that?" Mercedes said, the scowl firmly on her face.

"Hey, we just let your brother walk in on us sometimes," Mr. Jones said with a shrug, causing his wife's eyes to grow ridiculously wide and pop him on the side of the head. "What? You think I'mma apologize for wanting to love up on my _wife_?"

Mrs. Jones gasped. "The children—!"

"_My_ house and _my _wife—I can say what I wanna!" Mr. Jones declared and kissed Mrs. Jones again, going the extra mile and leaning her against the sink.

"Oh, my goodness," Mercedes whined, clearly mortified, and grabbed Sam's hand to usher them not just out of the kitchen, but out of the house entirely. She didn't stop walking until they reached his used, but still and finally _his_, Chevy pick-up. He sat down on the bumper of it and watched her pace in front of him, a small grin adorning his face.

"Unbelievable! Sometimes I think they live to embarrass me," she complained.

"They love you," Sam said. "Your dad definitely does."

Mercedes stopped pacing and regarded him sympathetically. "He wasn't too bad, was he?" Sam nodded and she pursed her lips, coming up to him and framing his face. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"And the bad thing is, I can't blame him for it, but it just sucks that…we can't just be together without having these Saturday-Morning-Special conversations."

"He brought up race, didn't he?" Mercedes said flatly. Sam nodded again. "Mom said he would. Said he wanted to talk to you and make sure you were serious, but I've _told_ him you were, Sam—"

"It's not the same, though," Sam mused aloud, wrapping his arms about her waist. "If it were our daughter, I'd do the same thing, actually."

It was only when he heard her inhale sharply that he reran what he'd said, and he blushed furiously. "Mercedes—"

"There you go with those presumptions again, Evans," she murmured, but she had a shy grin on her face.

He shrugged and tightened his hold on her. "I told him I had no intention of our relationship ending so…"

"You did?"

Sam nodded. "I hope you don't have a problem with that."

She let out a wild laugh, looking everywhere but at him for a moment. "Mom gave me a talk too. About sex."

His ears burned so badly he thought they would flame out and fall off his head. "Oh?" They still hadn't gone as far as the first time they'd been over her house alone, but he knew every inch of Mercedes' body over her clothes now.

"About urges and preparation and birth control—"

"Are you on it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not that it's necessarily a go-ahead, but yeah. I need it to regulate my periods."

Sam pulled a face at the mention of her monthly and she flicked the back of his head. "Ouch!"

"You're gonna be with a woman, gotta get used to hearing about womanly things," she told him frankly.

"Fair," Sam conceded, but he still pouted.

Mercedes rolled her eyes but rubbed away the slight hurt. "I think…they're accepting us?"

"And the inevitability that we will have the sex," Sam said.

"Your preoccupation with getting into my pants is concerning me."

"Not your pants. Your pu—ouch! 'Cedes!" She'd flicked the back of his head again.

"Nasty!"

"You said you liked my potty trouty mouth!" he accused, glowering at her.

She glowered right back. "Time and place, Evans! Neither is right now!"

"Oh, only when you're horny," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ugh! Bye, Sam!" She started to leave but he refused to let her go.

"Do I make you horny, baby?" he said in his Austin Powers impersonation.

"No!"

"How about now?" he said, nipping her jaw.

"No!"

"Now?" he continued into her neck.

"Sam Evans!"

"_Now_?" he asked, and then buried his face in her cleavage.

Her laughter made him smile and hold her even tighter as he kissed his way up from her breasts to her mouth. This was a sweet and tender kiss, the kind that made him sigh with serenity and grin like a little boy when she kissed his forehead for good measure.

"I guess I should go back in…not that they'd even notice…" Mercedes muttered and shuddered again.

"If it makes you feel any better, sometimes I'd come home to the motel and Dad would give me the keys to the truck and twenty precious dollars to take Stacy and Stevie out for some ice cream…"

Mercedes laughed again. "Good to know that even when old we can still get our mack on!"

Sam smiled a little but he'd like the opportunity to get it on when they were young too. He started caressing her booty, not to arouse, but because he really liked the shape and feel of it on a purely tactile level. Mercedes must have recognized this because she didn't stop him, either.

"Maybe the next time we're alone, we can try to go further ourselves?"

He met her eyes and quirked his brows. "Mercedes—"

"You've been really patient with me, Sam," she said, shaking her head against his beginning protests. "Least I can do is—"

"Wait until you're ready, 'Cedes," Sam said, tucking a bolt of her hair behind her left ear. "And that's it."

"But—"

"It'll be _way_ better when we're _both_ willing and ready," he promised against her temple, squeezing her. "You're one for two, love."

She grinned at him and touched her nose to his. "I think I like that pet name."

"Yeah, baby, yeah!" he agreed in another Austin Powers impersonation, and Mercedes hugged him.

"Okay, I'm going this time," Mercedes declared but didn't let go.

"I'm not going back inside," he said, snickering, and she laughed into his neck, "but tell your folks I said thank you for today."

She gazed at him sympathetically and combed her fingers through his hair. "Thank you for putting up with that."

"Like I said; I don't blame the guy. If it were Stacy, my dad probably would've had his shotgun next to him just for good measure."

Mercedes chuckled but finally disentangled herself from him, much to Sam's consternation. Nevertheless, he grabbed her hand and held it all three feet to the driver's door of his car. She stepped back so he could hop in, but he rolled down the window and gave her another kiss.

"I have to warn you, though," Mercedes said in his ear after they broke apart. "My dad is a bit more ninja—he'd get you on the next dental visit!"

Squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering, Sam turned a little green and Mercedes laughed against his cheek. "And on that note, think I'll be going to Dr. Carl from now on…"

* * *

><p>Mercedes' church solo: "The Battle Is Not Yours" by Yolanda Adams<p>

Mercedes and Mrs. Jones sang and danced to "You Know How to Love Me" by Phyllis Hyman


	16. Mythical Fences

**Title:** Mythical Fences  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Homecoming weekend may be a breakout weekend for Mercedes Jones.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mercedes' house looked like the bridal shop in which she'd worked all summer with fabric, dresses, and severely stressed-out females flittering about her. It was the Thursday evening before Homecoming and right after glee rehearsal, with all the girls plus Kurt parading around her living room as she and Kurt completed alterations on homecoming dresses. Kurt had been the one to volunteer their services, having had much fun at the Prom Dress Powwow as he'd deemed it and wanting to do it again. Mercedes usually hadn't cared about this dance because she'd go to Ohio State with her parents to partake in the university's Homecoming festivities instead. This year, however, she had a different incentive to stay behind.<p>

Conveniently, her parents would not.

"So, think it's gonna be _the weekend_, ReRe?"

Mercedes frowned as she threaded the needle of her sewing machine. Her father had decided to take her mother to a local lounge were an old buddy of his was performing a jazz set that night, so they had free range of the house. Thank goodness for that, because Santana didn't quite understand "time and place" parameters for conversations, and Mercedes had a sneaking suspicion this was about to be one of those talks she didn't need her parents to overhear.

"_The weekend_ for what, 'Tana?"

"When you and Sam finally get your _swerve_ on," Santana clarified.

Mercedes promptly poked herself with the needle and hissed, careful not to get blood on Brittany's rainbow-inspired dress. "Damn!" She sucked her finger into her mouth. Sometimes Mercedes hated it when she was right.

"Wow, just like that, Lopez?" Lauren asked, taking Tina's measurements around her waist.

"C'mon, we're _all_ curious, and the timing couldn't be more right," Santana said nonchalantly, reclining in the loveseat and playing with Brittany's hair as the blonde sat at her feet. "We all know Hobbit and Kurt are too wussy to do it, so it's up to my girl 'Cedes, here!"

"I am _not_ a wuss!" Rachel snapped, but didn't move because Kurt was pinning the fabric of her dress. "I just believe in waiting, that's all—"

"Until Finn's poor pecker shrivels up from disuse—"

"They do _not_ 'shrivel', as you so indelicately put it, Santana," Kurt injected but didn't bother looking at Santana.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you had one—"

"Too far, Santana," Mercedes said, glaring at her. "Come back from the insensitivity ledge, now."

Santana shrugged and wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, Kurt."

"I know you are," Kurt shot back and cut his eyes at her.

Santana started forward but Brittany patted her knee, and she relaxed again. "So?"

Mercedes focused on Brittany's dress and ignored the question. She really wanted to get as much done today as she could because tomorrow was the Homecoming game and then Saturday was the dance—

"Sam likes it fast and hard. Jackhammer-like. Similar to Puck, actually—"

"Shut _up_, Santana!" Quinn shouted and Mercedes shook her head, taking the dress from the sewing machine to inspect her work. She could barely see the stitching and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's ready, Brittany," Mercedes announced and shook out the dress.

"_Ooh_, yes!" Brittany cheered, bouncing up from her seat. "Can you help me put it on, Mercedes?"

"Sure," Mercedes said and they went to the half bath by the stairs. But Brittany didn't make a move to close the door after Mercedes handed her the dress, and Mercedes looked at her askance.

"Something wrong?"

"Come in."

Mercedes frowned. "The dress isn't that complicated."

"I know, but I want to talk to you alone."

"Oh…" Mercedes figured it had something to do with glee, so she thought nothing of entering the bathroom with Brittany and closing the door behind her.

"It's not going to be this weekend because you're not ready," Brittany said after a moment.

"What—?"

Without warning, Brittany grabbed the back of Mercedes' head and fused their mouths together in such a way that Mercedes thought she'd pass out from the lack of oxygen. Then, just as suddenly, Brittany released her, rubbing her lips together with a contemplative frown on her face.

"What the _hell_ just happened?" Mercedes whispered and collapsed against the sink, her lungs still not pulling in enough air for proper speech.

"I kissed you," Brittany said simply, her finger running along her bottom lip. "I had to see what kind of kisser you were before I could counsel you."

"_Counsel me_?"

"Yes," Brittany replied, just as placid as ever. "You and Sam aren't ready to swerve because you're too passive."

Mercedes goggled at her. "You just laid a kiss on me I didn't expect! It's called 'shocked-the-hell-still'!"

"Yeah, but usually when I do that, people eventually respond. Even Kurt did."

Mercedes didn't have time to go over _that_ particular gem of information because Brittany continued on.

"And you're selfish too."

That got Mercedes' back up real quick. "_Excuse me_?"

Brittany twisted her mouth and looked at the light fixture. "Yeah, well, maybe selfish isn't the right word, I don't really know, but it's like there's this wall—no, fence, because fences have holes. So you can kiss and touch but not completely because there's this big metal thing between you. Or something."

"You got all that from a three-second kiss that I wasn't even prepared for?" Mercedes asked doubtfully.

"We can do it again," Brittany said with a shrug. "Maybe a second one will give me a more informed opinion."

Mercedes wanted to kick herself for even contemplating giving it another shot, but she quickly shook her head and regained her senses. "I'm still trying to figure out why you even kissed me in the first place."

"Curious. You have nice lips. I've always liked your mouth," Brittany said and smiled.

"Um…not quite sure how to respond to that."

"Maybe that's why you didn't know how to respond to the kiss. Are you this rigid with Sam?"

"I love Sam," Mercedes said immediately.

"Yeah, but you kissed me like Artie used to, all unsure and stuff."

"I'm not _with_ you! I'm not even supposed to be kissing you because I'm with _Sam_."

"I know, but I kissed Sam and I wasn't with him, so…"

Mercedes just blinked at her. She didn't have the energy to continue that thread of the conversation.

"Sam's a giver," Brittany added. "And that makes him a really good kisser. _Really good_."

The dopey smile Brittany wore rankled Mercedes greatly. "I know that, Brittany."

"Imagine how much more awesomer your kisses could be if you took down that fence," Brittany said, still smiling. "I liked your mouth, Mercedes, and I'm sure Sam does, too; but do you like _your_ mouth?"

Mercedes looked away from Brittany, shocked by the sting of tears. Did she still have a fence up? That didn't make any sense. She felt crazy around Sam all the time, and they certainly weren't shy about touching each other and kissing each other whenever they had the opportunity. But she could also admit there'd always been an element of doubt in the back of her mind, even despite the progress they'd made; and after Sam had been over for dinner, Mercedes hadn't allowed herself to get too caught up in everything, either, her mother's words and what she'd gathered from Sam's conversation with her father holding her back. At least an article of clothing had to stay on, and it was usually below the waist. Had she really been doing the two steps forward, one step back and hadn't realized it until now?

"I didn't mean to make you sad," Brittany said, smoothing down Mercedes' hair.

Mercedes shook her head and sniffled a little. "No, you didn't…"

"Sam loves you, Mercedes, but you won't let him love you because deep down somewhere you still can't believe it. I know because you really are reminding me a lot of Artie right now. He always wondered why him when he couldn't walk, or wasn't as physically strong as all the other guys and girls I'd been with, but he isn't his legs or his muscles. He's his heart, and Artie's got a good one. So do you, Mercedes. Remember that song you sang? That Aretha song that got the Brainiacs the money to go to Detroit?"

Of course she did. Mercedes didn't think she'd sounded better, and there hadn't even been a Sam or anyone in her life then. She'd just been singing to some imaginary soul…somebody she could love. And now she had that, but had she become her 'imaginary soul' and not even realized it?

"I _am_ selfish," Mercedes murmured.

Brittany had her back to her as she stripped out of her clothes and slipped on the dress. Mercedes slid up the zipper and smiled, proud of her work. Brittany looked like the Care Bears had exploded all over her and made it fierce as hell.

"Not selfish," Brittany said, turning around to look at herself in the mirror. "Fenced in; and if you stay fenced in, you won't ever be able to swerve with anyone because fences seriously restrict your freedom, and your people fought too hard for freedom, Mercedes."

The non sequitir confused Mercedes, but not enough to keep her from giving Brittany a large hug.

"Thank you, Britt," Mercedes said.

The blonde squeezed her and even lifted her off the ground briefly. "You're welcome, Mercedes."

Brittany's words played in constant loop in Mercedes mind right up until it was time for the dance. She paid more attention to how she interacted with Sam, particularly when they were in public, and she realized she wasn't as touchy-feely in front of people as she was when they were alone. Mercedes didn't see anything wrong with that per se, but Sam was an affectionate guy, and more than once she'd noticed him stop short of doing something overtly affectionate with her and settle for a smile or something just as subtle. Sure, they'd hugged—she'd given him an especially large one after the football team had lost the Homecoming game—and it wasn't even as if everyone in the school didn't know they were dating; but she also suspected it had less to do with anyone else and more with her.

That fence she had around herself was her perspective, her reminder she was just seventeen and not nearly old enough to make adult choices or face adult consequences. But the love she felt for Sam wasn't childish, either.

"I don't know what to do…" she muttered, flipping through a _Sophisticate's_ _Black Hair _magazine.

"Uh, _Sam_, duh."

Mercedes groaned and rolled her eyes, wondering how she'd gotten suckered into talking about this with Santana of all people. She was at Santana's aunt's beauty salon to get her hair done for the dance that night; but after Santana's first attempt at broaching the subject, Mercedes hadn't wanted to say another word to her about it. Yet Santana knew how to wear a body down, and Mercedes was still raw from Brittany's earlier pep talk too.

"Is sex all you think about?"

"Breadsticks, then sex," Santana said, but grinned at Mercedes and winked.

Mercedes snorted. "Why are you so interested in my love life, though?"

"Bored," Santana said with a shrug. "That and the way Sam looks at you sometimes and the fact you don't notice it drives me _insane_."

Mercedes quirked an eyebrow at Santana through the mirror, vaguely noticing the large rollers the other teen was putting in her hair. "How does he look at me?"

"How you'd look at the last pan of tots, or Puck at the last stack of Eggos, or Quinn at the last strip of bacon, or me at the last breadstick at Breadstix."

Mercedes' hands flew to her cheeks. "Really?" He looked at her like that in public?

"All the time. I can only get looks like that when I show a lot of skin—even when I was with him; you do it without even trying. I'd be jealous, but then I remember I'm hot and there's nothing wrong with a little effort."

"I had no idea…"

"And now you do, so, do something about it." Santana sighed and came around to face her, bracing against the arms of Mercedes' chair. "Look, I know I talk a lot of shit and I'm a bitch, but I _am_ rooting for you. Yeah, you're cavity inducing like Finchel and Tike, but… dunno…I'm kinda protective over you two."

"Er, why?"

"You're my fellow top bitch and he used to _be_ my bitch," Santana cracked, but threw up a surrendering hand at the glare Mercedes sent her. "Fine, you still are my fellow top bitch, but Sam was good to me. Hell, he was the best boyfriend I ever had. The least I can do is make sure some of that good karma he put out gets returned to him."

Mercedes sucked her teeth. "And you think being nice to me will get you more solos."

Santana shrugged but smiled. "Didn't think it could hurt."

Between Brittany and Santana's advice, Mercedes thought she'd be a basket-case as she got ready for the dance. But Tina and Quinn were over at her place to get ready as well, and they were too busy singing at the top of their lungs and being silly as they danced about the room in their underthings. In fact, they didn't stop dancing until the doorbell rang, and then they started laughing because they weren't even close to being dressed and their dates were here.

"They're gonna kill us," Tina gasped, texting Mike to tell them they weren't ready yet.

"I don't know, I think I'd just prefer to be here with you guys!" Quinn said, slapping their hands and prancing about the room some more. She didn't have a date to the dance, well not an exclusive one. She was pulling a Brittany at prom and going with "everyone".

"Mike said they're still at his house," Tina told them, and Mercedes groaned, throwing on a robe so she could answer the door.

"Hey!" she greeted, ushering Kurt and Rachel inside. "What are you doing here?"

"Your house is neutral territory for pickup," Kurt explained. "Rachel and Finn will be less inclined to start making out here than at _her_ house."

Mercedes' brows rose as she looked at a reddening Rachel. "Well, that's why we didn't get ready at _your_ house!" Rachel returned.

"Same problem," Kurt reminded her.

"Yeah, but with added Blaine!" Rachel shot back and Mercedes couldn't help laughing at the blushing Kurt.

"Anyway, Diva, I'm loving the hair and makeup—Tina and 'Tana are godsends," Kurt praised, brushing his own hair and cheek for emphasis, "but this _outfit_ is _tragic_!"

"Hater," Mercedes muttered but laughed. "But y'all can either—"

"Y'all!" Rachel squealed, bouncing excitedly. "Oh, you're talking like Sam now!"

Mercedes narrowed her eyes good-naturedly. "_You guys_ can stay down here or…"

Both Kurt and Rachel hightailed it up the stairs.

Eventually, Tina texted Mike and told him they would meet them at the dance. They were all having too much fun getting ready to be done on time for the scheduled pickup.

"They're gonna be so _mad_!" Rachel predicted on a giggle as Quinn twirled her underneath her arm. But then, they heard Mercedes' doorbell ring again and everyone froze, Earth, Wind, and Fire's "Boogie Wonderland" blasting from the speakers connected to Mercedes' laptop.

"I'll get it!" Kurt announced, and both he and Tina popped up from their "boogie crouches".

"This is my house!" Mercedes yelled through the open door of her bathroom.

"Yeah, but you're not dressed and you have to make an _entrance_!" Kurt said.

Mercedes popped her head out the door, slipping up the strap of her slip. "That's them?"

Kurt shrugged not-so-innocently and rushed out the door.

In actuality, the entire glee club had descended upon Mercedes' house, with Lauren, Brittany, and Santana coming up stairs and shutting Kurt out when he tried to follow. He appealed to Mercedes, but she thought this was a good consequence for just inviting people to a house that he didn't live in. Santana and Tina helped her put the final touches on her ensemble and all three struck a pose in her bathroom mirror.

"We're so hot I can't stand it," Santana said, blowing her reflection a kiss.

"Let's go burn the gym down, then!" Tina said.

Kurt hadn't left, actually holding a conversation with Lauren and Brittany through the door, and then told them all he would announce them as they came down the stairs.

"Some of our dates have already seen us, Hummel," Lauren reminded him.

"Humor me," Kurt said. "Mercedes, you're last."

She shook her head rapidly, the soft curls Santana had styled her hair in brushing her shoulders and face. "I don't even—"

"Maybe next time you'll let me in, because we could've negotiated this," Kurt said, completely unsympathetic. "Brittany, you're up! C'mon, Rainbow Brite!"

"I love that show," Brittany said with a wide smile. Nobody chose to address how she used the present tense in that statement.

Mercedes heard the whoops and hollers from downstairs and inexplicably grew nervous. Tina kept slapping her hands to stop her from fidgeting with her clothes.

"Hummel totally saved the best for last," Lauren said, coming up next to her.

"And you know this!" Mercedes said, and they slapped hands.

When it was her turn, Mercedes gripped the bannister so hard she thought she could leave indentations. Kurt stumbled over his speech and clapped, breaking character and rushing up the stairs to hug her.

"You look like a _goddess_," he whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek as they continued down the stairs. "And, oh, look, your personal Adonis!"

Kurt handed her over to Sam, who smiled slowly at her and kissed her cheek as well.

"Really don't want to go to this dance right now, lady," he murmured underneath her lobe.

"We're going because I've never been," Mercedes said, brushing her nose against his jaw, "but we don't have to stay long…"

They did end up staying for most of the night, however, until Sam, surprisingly surreptitious, managed to get her out of the gym. They hopped into his truck but he didn't take them home, instead finding a clearing near the motel where his family had stayed.

"May I ask why I'm out here freezing?" she asked after they walked a few paces from the truck, its headlights providing them light.

He smirked slightly and wrapped his arms about her from behind, ensconcing her in his suit's jacket. She was instantly warmed and snuggled into him. "Used to come here all the time to think," he explained against her temple. "Okay, look up."

It was a clear night, so she was able to see the stars without any problems. He checked his phone and started to turn her counterclockwise, and then pointed. "There, there is the Polaris, yes? Okay, look right below it, and that's the constellation Cassiopeia. It looks like a w."

It helped that he traced it out in the sky, but Mercedes couldn't be sure if she were actually seeing what he was trying to show her. "I think I see it."

He chuckled and kissed the back of her head. "Okay, below that should be two lines of stars that look like streamers, but not really. That's Andromeda. And if you squint, you can see a little smudge-like 'star', and that's the Andromeda galaxy."

"Okay…"

"And then next to the Andromeda constellation is Perseus," Sam said, holding her closer, and pointed out the shape to her. "If we had a telescope, this would be much easier, but we had to sell it…"

"This is perfect, even if I'm not quite certain I'm looking at the right thing," Mercedes said on an embarrassed chuckle.

"I know I am," Sam said softly. "And the brightest star of all at that."

Mercedes glanced at him to check his line of vision and met his direct gaze instead. Smiling shyly, Mercedes turned and snuggled into his chest.

"You know the story about Perseus and Andromeda?" he asked, and Mercedes nodded. She'd inhaled myths when she'd been younger, particularly the Greek and Egyptian ones. "I didn't realize Andromeda was Ethiopian, though. They never painted her that way."

Mercedes kept her comments regarding the "why" of that to herself. "Are you trying to draw a parallel, Evans?" She pulled back and eyed him. "Because I'm no damsel in distress."

Sam shook his head and smiled. "No, you're my diva in dopeness."

Mercedes laughed and cupped his chin, and for the first time really let herself see just how he looked at her—as if she were the entire heavens in his eyes, if she wanted to be corny. And while she might not be a damsel distressed, Mercedes was just as chained as Andromeda was.

Fenced in, as Brittany had so wisely put it.

She pulled his head down and kissed him. "Take me home, Sam Evans."

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding and kissing her forehead. "Okay."

They said nothing on the ride to her house, but he did look at her askance when she told him to pull his truck into the garage. Before he could speak, she got out of the car and went to the door that led to the laundry room, looking over her shoulder at Sam to make sure he followed.

He did.

They remained silent as she closed the door, set the alarms, and grabbed his hand to lead him to her room. She then sat him on her bed and turned on the lamp on her nightstand before standing in front of him.

Mercedes trembled.

"Lady?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and began to strip. The zipper got stuck in the fabric of her dress; she stumbled out of her heels a bit; she winced at how the band of her control-top stockings had rolled down below her stomach. It was the most awkward disrobing she'd ever done and a few tears slid down her face; but by the time she was completely naked before him, she'd wiped them away, squared her shoulders, and opened her eyes to him.

He sat there, his hands clenched on his knees, his eyes roving over her form slowly. It was all she could do not to cover herself, but she remained firm, stubborn even. She almost broke her stance when he stood, and then her own eyes widened when he started stripping. With every article of clothing that dropped, he moved closer, until he was completely nude and only a breath apart from her. She felt his length twitch beneath her bellybutton and she closed her eyes, then released a sigh when his lips brushed her forehead.

Mercedes wrapped her arms around him, trembling even more at their very first skin-to-skin contact, but he squeezed her shoulders and rubbed her back comfortingly. It seemed he made sure to glide over every curve, dip, and roll, and she heard and felt him moan.

"Cuddling is _much better_ without clothes, lady," he said quietly.

She snorted. "Is it?"

She felt him nod against the top of her head. "I knew you'd be soft everywhere…"

"Like a pillow…"

"The kind of sleepin' I wanna do with you isn't for traditional pillows," Sam warned her, and Mercedes threw her head back and laughed. His hands moved to her ass and he squeezed. "Oh, yes, my anaconda is _very_ pleased," he said on a snicker.

She pulled a "judging you" face but her gaze automatically dropped down to his penis. "Oh, my goodness…"

"Told you," Sam said and seemed far too proud of himself, and it even had the audacity to twitch again.

She grasped him and his expression wasn't so smug anymore. She loved the way he felt in her hands, like silk-covered steel, and teased her fingers about the tip of him.

"Up," he ground out.

She lifted her head, confused. "What—?"

His mouth captured the rest of the question. This time she didn't hold back in her kiss, and those feelings she'd been too afraid to indulge in quickly overwhelmed. Her heartbeat picked up as her ability to breathe declined; and when his fingers slid between her legs, she had very serious doubts about her ability to stand.

"Sam," she gasped, breaking the kiss and leaning heavily against him. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips, the fingernails of her free hand digging into his bicep. He stared moving, and she had to follow unless he wanted to end up in a heap on the floor. He eventually sat down on the bed again, and gripped her thighs so she had no choice but to straddle him.

They both moaned at the new position. The long, strong fingers between her thighs didn't cease moving, and had in fact found her slick opening. Instinctively, her legs began to close, but she shook her head and forced them to stay open.

"Am I hurting you?" he rumbled against her lips.

"No," she replied, moving her hand from his arm to the back of his head and grinding against his fingers. "Shit, Sam…"

"Fuck, you sound like you did when you were on the phone. Remember that? I could come just from the sound of you breathing," he confessed against her collarbone and surged two fingers inside of her. This time she did clamp her thighs together, but to keep him from pulling them out. He wiggled them and hissed.

"So fucking wet, baby, and hot," he said moving lower. "Wrap your arms around me, 'Cedes."

"But then I have to let go of _you_," she said, giving his cock a quick jerk that made him shudder.

Growling low in his throat, Sam brought his mouth back to hers and tangled their tongues together. This was the first time Mercedes had ever felt overpowered by a kiss, and she realized this was probably the first time Sam hadn't held back from her. The revelation made her gasp and free her hold on him to do as he'd asked. Her Sam _was_ generous, and the least she could do was accept all he wanted to give her.

She felt him smile against her lips but he didn't stop kissing her, instead rolling them over until he loomed above her. He left her lips and traveled south, letting mouth get acquainted with the peaks and valleys of her body. When he dragged his nose through the hair on her mound, Mercedes bucked up against his chin so hard even _she_ heard his teeth click together.

"Sam!" she cried, her arousal doused by humiliation, and she slapped her hands over her face.

Sam's hand covered his mouth and he slowly left the bed. "I 'ink I 'it 'y 'ongue…"

Mercedes watched him shuffle to her bathroom through her fingers, and then immediately hid underneath her covers, too mortified to do anything else. It'd been going so well…_so well_...and what did she do?—abuse her boyfriend! She hated being bad at things, and she had to be _the worst_ at this. Mercedes wouldn't blame Sam if he never wanted to touch her again.

"Aw, c'mon, sweetheart, none of that…"

The endearment, a new one for Sam, made Mercedes shimmer and tighten her hold on the covers when she felt him tug. Of course, he had the upper hand, and it took only two more tugs before she was left completely exposed to him. She curled tighter into a fetal position and gave him her back.

"If it makes you feel any better, first time I went down on a girl she kneed me in the nose."

"It doesn't," Mercedes said flatly.

"Oh, well, yeah, probably not." He cursed and Mercedes rolled her eyes, but was nevertheless charmed by his ill-fated attempt to cheer her. "But it's no biggie—bleeding's stopped!"

"Thrilled for you," she mumbled, now covering her head with her pillow. She felt the bed dip and second's later his marbled heat enveloped her back. His full mouth touched her shoulder and his hand smoothed along her side down to her rear end.

"Look at me, Mercedes."

She shook her head and burrowed deeper into her bedding. Sam went flush against her back, and she felt his hardened cock against her ass. A firm tug later her pillow was now gone and he kissed her cheek.

"May I just hold you, then?"

Mercedes nodded and snuggled into him. She laughed a little when his hand moved from her butt to grip a breast, but his kneading was soothing even if the space between her legs was growing a little damp.

"I'm sorry I ruined the moment," she eventually whispered.

"Nothing was ruined…just…redirected," Sam said, kissing the back of her head and squeezing her breast. "Traditional sleeping has its merits, after all, especially when nekkid with you."

Grinning, Mercedes finally looked over her shoulder at him and he smiled, kissing her mouth. "I promise we'll try again soon," she said.

Sam kissed her again and snickered. "I'll make sure to bring a helmet next time…"

"Ass!" Mercedes hissed, turning away, but she couldn't help smiling.


	17. Altar Call

**Title:** Altar Call  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> It's Sunday and Sam has some praising and praying to do.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam woke up by degrees, instinctively knowing something was off, but not in a bad way. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized the amount of purple he saw was inconsistent with what usually greeted him upon awaking.<p>

As were the satiny zebra-print sheets tangled around his naked body.

He immediately shot up in bed, frowning at the very feminine décor, and he lifted up the sheet to see his cock standing proud in its customary morning wood. He inhaled deeply and frowned more. There wasn't the lingering smell of sex that would still be in the room if something had gone down last night; but when he ran his tongue against his teeth and felt the knot on the right side of it, he remembered what had _almost_ gone down and pouted.

Mercedes, for once, had been willing _and_ ready to go to the next level, and he'd had to go bite his tongue. That was what he deserved for having it loll out of his mouth like a panting dog at the sight of her laid out before him, looking like one humongous chocolate cake of which he'd never get his fill. Mercedes had been beyond embarrassed, and the mood had changed irrevocably. Now he was alone in her bed and how would he explain his absence to the Changs? He wouldn't lie to them, that was for sure; they were owed more than that. And nothing had happened…

_Unfortunately_…

"Shit," he whispered, scrubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes. At least if something had, the punishment would've been worth it!

Groaning, he found his boxers and slipped them on, fishing his cell phone out of his pants. He had several texts from the majority of the glee guys, each more lewd than the last, save for Kurt. Sam didn't know what the lack of a Kurt text meant, but he hoped it was a good thing.

Sam took another deep breath, but this time let it marinate in his lungs before exhaling. His stomach growled. He smelled vanilla and sausage, and his mouth watered.

He slipped on his pants but couldn't find his shirt, looking all around the bed and in the covers to no avail. But when his stomach growled again, he decided his shirt could wait but his belly couldn't.

He heard gospel music grow louder as he came down the stairs. And when he peaked into the kitchen, he found his shirt.

On Mercedes.

It was a little snug on her, but Sam had no complaints about that. She was bouncing on bare feet and singing along, sounding much better than the soloist on the radio, Sam thought, and pouring batter onto a griddle. Her hair was in a sloppy bun atop her head, and Sam didn't think she'd ever been hotter.

Suddenly she paused and slowly turned toward him. He smiled and she returned it shyly, dipping her head and facing the stove again.

"Mornin'," he said, his voice much deeper than normal from lack of use.

"Morning, Sam."

"You know, I was lookin' everywhere for that shirt…"

"Oh?"

He stalked toward her, noticing her tense slightly as she transferred the done pancakes to a plate. He didn't touch her when he finally reached her, merely standing behind her and watching her make breakfast. It was incredibly domestic and everything looked and smelled delicious…especially the chef.

"Do you want to go to church?" Mercedes asked a little breathlessly. "We missed eight o'clock service, but we could still make the eleven o'clock service if you want. My choir's not singing today—children's choir instead. And they're so cute too…"

Sam couldn't resist planting his lips in the curve of her neck and banding his arms about her waist. She immediately sank into him and lazily flipped a cake over, leaning her head to the side to give him more skin. Sam nipped and laved her neck, loving the way her breathing grew heavier with each inhalation and exhalation. Finally, she turned her head and he immediately latched on to her lips.

She'd been dipping in the batter.

"I wonder how many times your parents did somethin' like this," Sam murmured against her mouth.

Mercedes grinned and snorted. "Saturday was the only day they begged me and Micah to sleep in because of 'somethin' like this'."

Sam smiled and kissed her again, this time undoing the straining buttons of his shirt to squeeze her, thankfully, bare breasts. She shuddered at his touch but leaned further into his kiss and hands. They were wonderfully heavy in his palms, with large, dark nipples that always demanded to be sucked. He actually didn't know if his mouth watered because of them or the food.

His stomach growling, however, seemed to provide the answer.

"Here," Mercedes murmured, presenting a folded pancake. Sam arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth. "Seriously?" He smiled and nodded, and she rolled her eyes but fed it to him.

"Oh, _wow_," he exclaimed and closed his eyes, the pancake practically melting on his tongue. "What the hell is in these?"

"Secret," Mercedes said, scrunching her nose up adorably.

"I want to marry you for your cooking _alone_!" Sam declared, opening his mouth for another pancake.

"You don't need to marry me to eat my food, Sam," she reminded him and slipped another pancake into his mouth. "Maybe I'll open a restaurant when I get older—_oh_, there's an idea, a sweets shop with a stage so I can sing! Like Sylvia's in Harlem, which I'm still mad about we never got to go to."

Sam didn't know what a Sylvia's was; but he vowed the next time they went to New York, he'd take her there.

"But I need to marry you so I can finally be in on the 'secret family recipes'," Sam clarified.

"You're never getting it; sorry," Mercedes said sympathetically.

"What! Why?"

"My _mother_ doesn't even have them," Mercedes said. "Grandma's real protective over her recipes. When she finally taught some to me, made me sign a legal document and everything!"

Sam blinked. "But…"

"I mean, maybe the rules have relaxed the older she's gotten," Mercedes said with a shrug and poured the rest of the batter mix onto the griddle. "But she's afraid of people selling the recipes, and divorce happens, so only those born a Jones can get it."

"But if you signed a document—?"

"Baby, I was twelve; I didn't question the logic. It probably also didn't help my mom and Grandma didn't quite see eye to eye when my parents first got married. Grandma thought she should stay at home and take care of house and home; Mama said she didn't get married to be a maid."

Sam quirked a smile at that. He really liked Mrs. Jones even though they hadn't interacted one-on-one much. But Mercedes obviously took after her mother in a lot of things—beauty, build, sass, talent, and generosity, just to name a few.

Mercedes flipped the cooking pancake over on the griddle and he smoothed his hands down to her belly. He felt it quiver and he kissed the top of her head.

"How about I want to marry you so I can do this every morning with you?" Sam tried this time.

"How about we're seventeen and we shouldn't be discussing marriage," Mercedes replied, taking the pancake off the griddle and turning off all the eyes on the stove.

Undeterred, Sam drifted his lips along her cheek. "And yet, you were the one who considered it first."

"Teenage girls do that all the time, always joining our names with our boyfriends'. You're the weird one," Mercedes said, but the apple of her cheek gave her smile away.

"Mercedes Evans," Sam tested. "I like that—but would our kids be able to get the recipes?"

Mercedes laughed fully at that. "You just want me for my cookies and cakes!"

Sam's hand traveled even further south and teased the elastic of her panties. "Definitely your cookies, lady."

He watched her close her eyes and pull her bottom lip between her teeth. Lust looked so damn stunning on Mercedes that Sam couldn't help slipping his hand lower along her hair-covered mound to her slick, prominent clit. Mercedes grasped his wrist with both hands but didn't make him pull away, and the tiny sounds coming from the back of her throat had his erection straining against the small of her back.

"Turn around," he grunted in her ear, thrusting gently against her.

"I can't move," she gasped, and her hips started pumping in time to his fingers' strokes. "You and this stove are keeping me upright…"

He smiled into her jaw and kissed it softly. "I got you. I always got you, lady."

They awkwardly managed the feat, Mercedes gripping his biceps hard and falling against him. Sam was a little sad he had to remove his hand from between her thighs, but the passionate glaze in her eyes more than made up for it. He kissed her nose even as she pressed her bared chest against his.

"So…is that a _no_ on church this morning?"

"I'm about to be very blasphemous, but I'd prefer to worship someone else this mornin'," Sam rumbled and kissed her mouth.

"Very blasphemous," Mercedes agreed, biting his bottom lip.

"You think God will forgive me?" he asked, sliding his hands over her ass beneath her panties, "for wanting to love every inch of you instead?"

She buried her face in his neck and shuddered again.

"And actually, it's not blasphemy if you think about it," Sam murmured against her temple. "Every time I think of you, I thank God you are in my life and He allowed me to know you. This is just…another way to express my gratitude, right?"

He felt her laugh and he smiled lopsidedly. It'd sounded good in his head, anyway.

"You are one of the most adorable people I know, Sam Evans," she said against his pulse. "Even when being sacrilegious."

"Nothing sacrilegious about loving you," he said, drawing back so their eyes could meet. Mercedes framed his face in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes before standing on her tiptoes and kissing him. He didn't keep it innocent, either, his tongue stroking hers to the same rhythm as his hands on her ass. His cock was so hard he thought it could burst from the pressure, and it almost did when Mercedes' hand cupped him through his pants.

"I want to express my gratitude too," she whispered, the thumb of the hand still cupping his face caressing his lips. "Because I am _so_ thankful for you, especially after last night—"

He kissed her. "My tongue is fine. It still works…I can show you, if you'd like."

Mercedes giggled and nodded, going forward to kiss him, but he instead chose her neck. She whimpered, squeezing his cock gloriously hard in reaction, and he groaned into her skin. He almost cursed when she pulled away, but then she took his hand and led them back up the stairs to her room.

His heart thudded against his heart so hard it hurt, and he hesitatingly entered her room.

"Mer—"

She kissed him, walking forward so he had no choice but to walk backwards until the back of his knees hit her bed. He sank on it like deadweight, a little irritated that she didn't follow, but his hands squeezed her hanging breasts to compensate. She moaned and started kissing and laving his neck, her hands smoothing all over his chest and down his abs to his trousers.

"Off," she muttered against his collarbone, and he didn't need to be told twice.

Her hand immediately wrapped around his cock once it was freed, and Sam threw his head back and groaned loudly. Her mouth was still busy at his neck, but then started moving south until the rough pad of her tongue slid over his nipple. She was tentative, almost clumsy, but he bucked hard in her hand.

His vision crossed and blurred because she felt so damn good, especially when she lowered herself between his legs and the hard tips of her nipples grazed the insides of his thighs. She palmed the tip of his penis a little more roughly than he preferred, but she more than made up for it when he felt her breath against him.

"Mercy," he whispered, gripping her hair hard. "You don't—"

Her lips were so _fucking soft_ that he almost sobbed from frustration. She teased him, lacking the finesse of others but he knew he wouldn't be able to last very long because she was so damn _earnest_. She couldn't quite get a rhythm going but he didn't care; between her hands and her lips and that _tongue_ he felt his balls tighten, ready to explode.

"No," he panted, trying to push her away. "Mercy, _please_—!"

She reared back and looked at him with unsure eyes. "Am I…doing it wrong?"

His heart broke at her expression, and he thought nothing of leaning down and kissing her lips. She still stroked his erection, and three strokes later he let loose against her collarbone and the valley of her breasts. Mercedes gasped and jerked back, blinking rapidly as she first looked at him, then down at the mess he'd made. It was his turn to be embarrassed—a stop sign had nothing on the color red he now rocked.

"Shit, 'Cedes…" He trailed off as she scooped some from her breast and put it in her mouth, and his cock twitched back to life.

"It tastes weird," Mercedes said, frowning. "Maybe it's an acquired one?"

"Oh, fuck me," Sam breathed and slammed his mouth against hers. She was going to kill him, and he was pretty sure he'd enjoy the hell out of that death.

Sam eventually coaxed her to stand and used his boxers to clean off his ejaculate and pushed off his shirt from her body completely. He remembered her last night, looking like some ebony Aphrodite who'd just emerged from the ocean, albeit a shy ebony Aphrodite, and it'd been all he could do not to tackle her right then and there. She still had difficulty maintaining eye contact now, but her posture was straight and her arms hadn't attempted to cover herself once.

He remained seated and grasped her hips, bringing her closer so he could nuzzle her soft belly. Though it wasn't tight like Quinn's or Santana's, it was wonderful nonetheless. Mercedes had a body meant for holding and cuddling, for revering, and he loved every inch of it. Maybe it was because he was from the South and the region had a more inclusive standard of beauty compared to other places, but his lady was stunning.

"That tickles," Mercedes whispered, her fingers combing through his hair.

He smiled against her rib and tilted up his chin to take her nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it hard, as if it were hard candy, and the harsh tug she gave on his hair made his chest puff up with pride. He loved the feel of her nipple in his mouth, how hard it was compared to the yielding flesh of her breast, and knew he could stay here for hours. But there was another hard nub he wanted to explore, and that one was below her waist.

He teased her other breast with his lips and tongue and slowly pulled her panties down her legs. She gripped his head hard again, especially when she stepped out of them, and Sam smiled against her nipple as he knelt on the floor before her. His mouth grazed the center of her belly before pressing a firm kiss to her mound. It was then Mercedes backed away from him and looked at him warily.

"I think we should go to church."

Sam gaped at her. "Wha…?"

"It's not sitting right with me, this isn't," Mercedes admitted, wringing her fingers and shaking her head. "We should slow down…"

Now Sam glared at her. "What? It's all right for you to get me off but I can't return the favor to my girlfriend?"

She winced and covered her privates, shaking her head as she backed away from him. "I thought I could…I thought I was ready…"

He sat there, completely blown away by the abrupt turn of events that lead to Mercedes hiding in her bathroom. She'd been enjoying it—he _knew_ it. She'd been moaning and whimpering and shuddering with each touch of his fingers and lips on her body. Now Sam felt angry and a little betrayed. It wasn't that Mercedes wasn't ready. He'd _smelled_ the fact she was ready.

She was scared.

Some of his irritation faded at the revelation, but not all of it. Mercedes needed to talk to him. She was the same diva who proclaimed to be able to start sex riots, but apparently had supreme discomfort when it someone else made _her_ 'riot'. Sam grinned, unable to contain his smugness at knowing he could cause such a reaction from his normally hard-to-impress girlfriend. Mercedes prided herself in control, in being steady and grounded, but that didn't mean she couldn't fly as well.

Sam didn't bother putting on clothes as he went to the bathroom door. He knew she was leaning against it because he could hear her breathing heavily, actually shuddering, as if trying not to cry.

"We can go to church, Mercedes," he said. And it was probably a good idea, too, because he needed some celestial guidance right about now.

"We can?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "But only on two conditions."

"_Two_?"

He grinned at the sass that had returned to her voice. "Yes. The first one is we take a shower together—"

"Boy—!"

"And the _second_," Sam said, talking over her interruption, "is the next time we have an opportunity such as this, you let me love you, Mercedes. No delay, no hesitation."

"You should _always_ be loving me, Sam Evans!"

He smiled outright then. "Yes, I do, and you know I do. Intellectually, yes. Emotionally, _definitely_. Now you need to know _physically_."

"My mama said if I make adult decisions, I have to face adult consequences," Mercedes parroted. "And I'm not ready to do what Quinn had to do, Sam."

Sam clenched his jaw and breathed hard through his nose. "Open the door, Mercedes."

He heard her exhale but she didn't dally in the task. To his delighted surprise, she was still as naked as he was, but he looked directly into her fearful eyes. He allowed a little sympathy to smooth away some of the jagged edges of his indignation and tenderly kissed her forehead.

"Quinn is one of the strongest people I know," Mercedes whispered against his heart, "but if I ever had an unplanned pregnancy, I don't think I could give up my baby. I just…I don't want to be put in the position where I'd have to consider it."

"We'd make it work, Mercedes," Sam promised her and squeezed her, "but that's not what's really got you scared."

"Damn it," she whispered but held him tighter.

He laughed lightly. "I may not know everything about you, lady, but I pay attention when it comes to you. Tell me what's really got you worried."

"Fences," she said immediately, and that made him frown.

"Fences?"

"I have fences, Sam, with you. Brittany talked to me about it on Thursday; she said I don't let you love me fully. And she's right…I look into your eyes and I'm overwhelmed. I don't think I could handle all you have to give because if you leave—"

"_Leave_?"

"I watched for two years how it affected Rachel when Finn bounced from her to Quinn—and I'm not saying you'd do that to me—but we're graduating soon, and who knows what's gonna happen—"

"You're going to college and maybe I'll go back to Tennessee—"

"Exactly!" Mercedes said. "And maybe you'll meet some gorgeous southern belle and—"

"Think she's a nice lady but doesn't compare to you," Sam said, frowning in confusion.

She buried her face in her hands and breathed deeply. "I just know you're gonna be a habit I can't shake, Sam, and I _cannot_ get caught up! You touch me and I go up in flames, so I know if we…" She groaned and dropped her hands heavily to square her shoulders and look at him. "I'm an independent woman who is feeling _very_ dependent on you and that is _frightening_."

Sam narrowed his eyes at her, then went to her shower and turned it on, making the temperature just slightly hotter than lukewarm.

"Let's go," he said. "We don't wanna be late for church."

Mercedes sighed but nodded, plucking a leopard-print shower cap from the sink and putting it over her head. Sam grinned at her, thinking she was beyond adorable, but she pulled an embarrassed face as she stepped underneath the spray. Sam slipped in behind her and just held her, his forehead on the top of her head and his hands linked below her bellybutton.

"It's okay to depend on someone, Mercedes," Sam said after a quiet moment. "I thought I could do it all by myself when my family lost everything, but then that didn't work out because I'd started leaning on Kurt and Quinn. Then y'all found out, the glee club, and that heavy weight I'd been carrying lifted away. And then there you were…and I liked you—first as just a friend—but then it became very clear you were becoming an essential part of not just me, but my family. Stevie and Stacy love you, my parents love you, _I_ love you. And maybe because of all the upheaval and turmoil I'd been through all year, I didn't mind finding myself caught up in Mercedes Jones. I don't know what else could happen to me, but if you could weather this storm with me, I figure you're a lifetime lady."

Saying nothing, Mercedes picked up the soap lathered her hands. She then turned and spread her soapy hands along his chest and he remained still. She didn't look him in the eyes when she spoke.

"When you came down while I was cooking the breakfast that's probably cold as ice now," she began with a soft snicker, "and I told you my parents did this every morning…I wished we could too." She glanced up at him and smiled a little. "I'd imagined our baby before, a burnished-gold version of you…that's the forever I saw that freaked me out."

He smiled, then chuckled, taking the soap and lathering up his hands now. He surprised her by sliding his soapy hand between her legs and stroking her firmly, feeling a wetness that had nothing to do with the shower. Mercedes whimpered and leaned heavily against him, spreading her legs so he could reach more.

"I used to pretend Stacy and Stevie were our kids when we were babysitting," he admitted, rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Her eyes were wild and she gasped. "What?"

"I'd told you I saw forever too when you sang to me…except you didn't believe me then. Still don't, apparently, but remember who you're talking to. I gave Quinn a promise ring?"

"_Yes_," Mercedes said sharply, just as he slipped his fingers inside of her.

He raised his eyebrows at her reaction, then at a realization. "Oh."

"Yes," she repeated on a moan, "And now you're here with me."

"She broke the promise, Mercedes," he reminded her, stilling his fingers.

"I know."

"Do you plan on breaking any with me?"

"No, but to be fair I don't think she planned on breaking any with you, either."

Sam grunted but resumed pumping his fingers.

Mercedes thrust her hips counter to him. "We're human, Sam; if I fall short, will you move on to someone else?"

"I didn't, not on my own, anyway. Santana practically yanked me away from Quinn."

"But the ring—?"

"The promise ring was a desperate attempt at some constancy," Sam said, his voice holding an edge as he removed his hands to lather them again. Mercedes had stopped washing him altogether, clutching his biceps with quivering hands. "That was the beginning of my world falling apart, and I needed a rock. I thought that was Quinn, but I was wrong. And then Santana came and she was a distraction. And then you came…and I never saw you coming, but I'm fucking glad you did."

Mercedes took the bar from his hands and lathered hers again. They finished washing each other silently, going over every part of each other's bodies with care, almost to the point of clinical. Sam mapped every part of her body and reveled in her same treatment for him, laughing a little when she tried to pull his head down to rinse out his hair. When she finally succeeded, he kissed her softly, both of them forgetting to rinse at all in favor of holding each other and kissing instead.

"And there's no 'Santana' able to yank you away from me?" Mercedes asked in a small voice against his mouth.

He exhaled slowly. "And there's no 'Finn' or 'Puck' to yank you away from me?"

Mercedes sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Sam, please—"

"You're _beautiful_, Mercedes," he said emphatically and squeezed her. "Nobody can compete with you on that, not to me. Megan Fox could walk in here stark naked right now; and yeah, I'd look because it's _Megan Fox_, but that wouldn't mean I'd ever want her over you! She doesn't have my heart—you do!"

"Sam…"

"And how do you think I feel when you flirt with Puck?" Sam returned with a glower. "He's got guns, Mercedes. He's fit, he's smooth—_he dated you_. You two have chemistry, okay? I know you liked his kiss, so don't tell me you don't."

"Are you—?"

"And then there's Artie," Sam continued on a roll, "I think he has an orgasm every time you sing and you two sound so good together when you have duets. I've never said this, couldn't even admit it to myself, but when I was in Tennessee I used to think what if y'all fell in love singing like it always happens in those musicals my mom made me watch when I was younger?"

"_Artie_?"

"Finn too!" Sam said, sounding more and more irrational but he didn't care. "He can't take his eyes off you when you sing, either, and don't think I didn't notice how long he checked you out when you were dressed as Frank-N-Furter!"

A smirk came across Mercedes' face. "I was hot in that outfit."

"_I know_!" Sam agreed on a growl.

"Which means you were checking me out then too," she added with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course I—" Sam began, then remembered he was dating Quinn at the time. "Uh…"

"And I was checking _you_ out…" Mercedes murmured, sliding a damp hand over his abs until she grasped his cock. "Who knew you'd ever want to relieve my tension, huh?"

Sam grinned wryly. "I try anyway; you keep chickening out on me."

"Sometimes I can't believe a guy who looks like you really wants to stay with a girl who looks like me, like it's a fluke we even got together. I feel like we should match, and I'm not holding up my end or something," Mercedes confessed.

Sam kissed her temple. "Did you ever stop to think that I'm afraid you'd leave me if I were anything less than 'abulous'?" The bewildered look she shot him told Sam she didn't. "You're not the only one with body issues, lady. I like Cool Ranch Doritos a little too much, and your cookies, and my mama's fried chicken. I won't maintain this body forever…"

"I'm the last person who gets to be mad about someone being 'pudgy'," Mercedes said sharply. "I love your body, but that's not why I love you!"

Sam grinned. "Exactly!"

She pouted, narrowing her eyes at him, but laughed and kissed his mouth. "I love you, abs or no abs."

He backed her against the tiled wall and bit the shell of her ear. "I love you, and I love every curvy inch of you."

"And next time, no matter how nervous or shy I am, I'll let you show me," Mercedes vowed, caressing his cheek. "I'm sorry I was trippin', Sam."

His kiss accepted her apology and they quickly finished their shower and dressed. Mercedes warmed up the food in the microwave while Sam hand-washed the dishes she'd used and let them dry in the drying rack. They did have to rush breakfast a bit, but they made it to church on time.

"Shoot, I should've invited Quinn," Mercedes bemoaned as they entered the doors.

Sam squeezed her hand and shook his head. "No. I'm glad we're alone." After their conversation in the shower, they needed this time to themselves, which meant he was especially grateful Puck wasn't in the band this morning too.

They sat closer to the back of the church and Sam didn't let go of her hand, not even to clap. This was a very different experience than when he'd sat with Quinn and Mercedes' parents; he felt far more settled and grounded. When altar call arrived, Sam went ahead while Mercedes stayed behind. He knelt down and prayed for his friends and family; and earnestly, probably even a little prematurely, asked that Mercedes could officially become both one day.


	18. Thinking before Leaping

**Title:** Thinking before Leaping  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Jones Family, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mrs. Jones warns her daughter that "forever" isn't always sunshine and roses.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mercedes wasn't exactly sure how she avoided being grounded for the next millennium, but she supposed telling her parents Sam had spent the night without them having to coax it from her might have had something to do with it. And she would've gotten away with it, too, except she was <em>the worst<em> liar on the planet and she had to talk to her mother about what had gone down.

This wasn't to say Mercedes had gotten off scot-free. She couldn't see Sam alone until after Thanksgiving, which was a ridiculously long month and a half away, and she couldn't go out with anyone until the beginning of November. And as much as she missed being able to cheer on her Sam and the McKinley Titans, she would gladly sacrifice a month if it meant not giving up Sam for good.

"What about glee?" Mercedes had asked. They'd taken the keys to her car until November too.

"You can still do glee. Maybe Quinn can bring you home," her father had said.

"Or Mike. He takes Tina, doesn't he?" her mother had suggested.

"Sam lives with Mike," Mr. Jones had reminded her menacingly.

Mrs. Jones had rolled her eyes. "So? We said _alone_, not ever. They won't be alone if Mike is there."

Mr. Jones had grumbled about not feeling much better about that, but Mercedes had wisely kept out of that discussion.

Mercedes, however, didn't have the guts to really bring up the talk with her mother until that Saturday. Her father was doing his free Dental Saturday for the low-income kids in the area and she and her mother decided to watch the Ohio State game from home. It was becoming an embarrassing rout for the other team, so her mother turned off the television and turned to her instead.

"So…"

Mercedes hid her face in one of the couch's throw pillows, giggling when her mother laughed at her antics and pulled it away.

"Mom…"

"I know we had a really quick talk before," Mrs. Jones said, grabbing her daughter's hand. "But _clearly_ we need another one."

"We didn't do anything," Mercedes mumbled.

"It's not the sex that truly concerns me," Mrs. Jones admitted. "It's the hitching your wagon to someone and you're so young. Do you really know how long forever is? Longer than a school year, baby."

"Forever is one day at a time," Mercedes said. "That's what you and Daddy said at your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

Mrs. Jones arched an eyebrow at her and huffed. "Well, then…"

"Mom—"

"But you're right," Mrs. Jones said. "I just…adult choices have adult consequences, but then I remember you're only a few months' shy of adulthood now."

When her mother put it that way, Mercedes shuddered. "Yeesh!"

"Exactly…but I can admit something—we weren't nearly so hard on your brother about this. Yes, sexist double standard, but we also raised him to be responsible."

"And you raised me to be the same," Mercedes reminded her.

"Granted, but we honestly didn't think we'd have to worry about you, honey. You never seemed interested in anyone; even Puck was more like another brother to you."

Mercedes refused to disabuse her mother of that notion. "Sam is different."

"We know. You took that boy to church…_alone_. Everyone knew he wasn't another Kurt, that was for sure!"

Mercedes chuckled a little and sighed. "I liked going to church with him." She glanced shyly at her mother. "I liked falling asleep with him…I liked cooking him breakfast that morning. I liked…_pretending_."

"Unfortunately, baby, you can't 'pretend' to pay the bills or 'pretend' to worry about the kids or 'pretend' to have the right insurance or 'pretend' to find the right job that will pay for all those things," Mrs. Jones said, caressing her daughter's hair when Mercedes rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Love and marriage aren't easy, baby, and there's no rush for either."

"Tomorrow's not promised," Mercedes murmured.

"No, it's not, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be prepared for it too."

"You gave me the talk about protection," Mercedes reminded her mother.

"Yes, but there's no condom for love, baby girl, and you're knocked up with it!"

Mercedes chuckled and rolled her eyes at her mother's corniness, but she couldn't deny the claim. "Does it make you feel better that he is too?"

"Yes," Mrs. Jones said, "but it makes me scared for you. His family's fallen on hard times…and he's no future Rhodes Scholar, either. What he's good at are things that don't bode well for security. He's a talented boy, Mercedes, I'll give him that; but we've worked too hard, your father and I, to see you struggle like you'll have to do with Sam."

Mercedes bristled and pulled back. "Why do you think we'll have to struggle?"

Mrs. Jones looked at the television and sighed heavily. "I don't know, but have you talked about the _other_ future? The unpretty one with the long days of hard work and short nights full of nothing but tired pecks on the cheek and sleeping with the backs to each other? Or the one where no matter what you say or what he says, it's _always_ the 'wrong thing to say'? Or the one where the sight of each other turns your stomach?" She sighed heavily again. "Marriage isn't a perpetual honeymoon even though your father and I tried to only show you the rosy side of it. We've spoiled you, Mercedes; you've not had to worry about anything a day in your life. Meanwhile, that boy had to become a man in a few short months. There will be some growing pains; and I think, before you hitch your wagon to him, you should do some growing without him."

"I had a summer."

"A summer of security in _my house_," Mrs. Jones reminded her sharply.

Mercedes sighed herself, trying her hardest not to be angry. "Would you be saying this if he were black?"

Mrs. Jones laughed sardonically. "I would be even harder on you if Sam were black because it would be even harder for him to succeed! I'm not rehashing those lessons for you right now, Mercedes Jones. You've had to sit many a long hour at the dinner table while Micah was being schooled."

"But you don't care he's white?"

"I care," Mrs. Jones said emphatically, "but only because of the grief you two will get. The Evans family is a good family, and I just think it's damn unfair you will face more problems than a typical couple because you're interracial. And really, I was long prepared for you to date outside your race; not many black people in Lima to choose from!"

Mercedes chuckled and rested her head back on her mother's shoulder. "This is true."

"And the fact Sam's real easy on the eyes doesn't hurt, either," Mrs. Jones added conspiratorially.

"He's beautiful, Mama," Mercedes said. "And not just the shell of him. The essence of him is so beautiful."

"I know," Mrs. Jones agreed and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "For the record, baby girl, I'm not against the hitching, not at all…just be very careful of how and when you do it, okay?"

"I will," Mercedes promised, snuggling further into her mother. "And by the way, some glee kids want to come to church on Sunday."

"They don't need my permission to come to church!" Mrs. Jones sassed, and the two Jones women giggled right before Mrs. Jones ticked off a possible Sunday dinner for her friends.

The next morning, the Jones family met up with Sam, Puck, Quinn, Lauren, and Santana in the parking lot. Santana's aunt Renée immediately approached Mercedes and hugged her.

"See who I brought?" Renée said, pointing at an unimpressed Santana.

"The prodigal daughter returns," Mercedes joked and Puck and Lauren chuckled. Santana glared evilly at them all.

"I wonder if she'll burst into flames the moment she crosses the threshold," Sam teased.

"None of you are funny," Santana muttered, folding her arms at her chest.

"Yeah, and she's mad because I won't let her rock my hat!" Miss Renée said, touching the wide brim of her fire-engine red Sunday hat. Her sister locs tumbled about her shoulders in a demure, yet alluring way. Miss Renée never looked anything less than on point no matter where she was.

"It goes perfectly with my outfit!" Santana said, showing off the tight, pencil skirt dress with a matching long-sleeved bolero jacket. All were definitely the same fire-engine red of her aunt's hat.

"¡_Chica, por favor_! ¡_No puedes llevar mi ropa_!" Miss Renée said, rolling her eyes.

"But your clothes are cuter than mine!" Santana said and all but stomped her foot.

"What? Your clothes _are_ mine!" Miss Renée reminded her niece. "How many other girls you know from the 'hood can wear designer clothing like you do?"

The two playfully bickered right until they entered the church, Miss Renée flirting with one of the young male deacons who'd been greeting the congregation. Sam immediately came to Mercedes' side and kissed her cheek, slipping his hand in hers.

"I didn't know Santana's aunt was black…"

"Yeah, her maternal granddad is Panamanian, apparently, and met her grandmother at FAMU; then, her mom went to New York to model and came back with a Puerto-Rican husband and Santana," Mercedes explained.

Today the senior citizens' choir was performing during the service, and Mercedes and Quinn bounced excitedly. They loved the old people performing, because they did that old-timey gospel without the music and it made Mercedes think of her maternal grandmother just starting off a song and having her aunts and uncles fall in line. Mercedes remembered the first time Quinn had heard them; she didn't stop humming the songs for a week afterwards.

Even Santana couldn't deny enjoying the performance, although Mercedes noticed her nodding off during the pastor's sermon. Lauren tried to read some of the biblical passages to Puck who rolled his eyes and told her to keep it to the Old Testament if she must. Quinn sat between Mr. Jones and Sam, one arm through Mr. Jones's, while listening to the sermon intently with her eyes closed and doing the quiet call-and-response much of the congregation did; and Sam held Mercedes' hand in his lap and was more vocal with his participation during service.

"So, are all of you coming by for dinner?" Mrs. Jones asked after church was over.

"Jones food? Oh, _Tía_, can I go?" Santana asked, wide-eyed; Miss Renée eyed her niece and shook her head.

"We can't, Mama Jones," Puck said apologetically. "Having dinner with my girl's parents," he said, and kissed a slightly blushing Lauren's cheek. "But Mercedes could save a plate for me?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and didn't say she would, but they both knew he'd have leftovers tomorrow.

"Does this invitation extend to me?" Sam asked and Mercedes squeezed his hand.

"N—"

"_Yes_," Mrs. Jones said, glaring slightly at her husband. "Please join us, Sam."

"Uh, I have to go home, too, Mama Jones," Quinn said, backing away a bit from them. "Mom is expecting me, but one of these Sundays I'll have to join."

Mrs. Jones looked sad but kissed Quinn on her forehead. "You never need an invitation to come over. Your key still works, yes?"

Quinn gave a trembling smile and nodded, hugging Mr. Jones hard and then coming to give Mercedes one herself.

"I don't envy Sam at all," Quinn said in Mercedes' ear.

"Poor life decisions will get you on my dad's bad side," Mercedes teased sarcastically.

Quinn smiled sadly and cupped Mercedes' cheek. "He just doesn't want you to end up like me; you can't be upset for him wanting to protect you."

Mercedes knew there was no reason to respond to that so she kissed Quinn's cheek and told her she'd see her tomorrow.

Mercedes was mildly surprised when her mother insisted her father help her in the kitchen. Mr. Jones started to protest immediately, but one well-arched eyebrow silenced him verbally, and the death glare he sent Sam reverberated loudly and clearly.

Sam sat stiff as a board next to her on the couch; and for ten minutes they watched the Cleveland Browns game in complete silence, which was easy to do since they were losing quite spectacularly. Finally, Mercedes rolled her eyes and kissed his jaw, and he immediately looked at her with a soft smile.

"I miss you, lady," he murmured.

She kissed his lips tenderly. "I miss you too."

One good thing about their forced separation was progress during glee. Tina suggested they spend the first fifteen minutes of each rehearsal discussing plans or airing grievances, which definitely brought down the muttered "Maim Rachel Berry" rants that had predominated the rehearsals for the two years Mercedes had been in glee club. And as much as they liked original songs, everyone decided to do the traditional covers for Sectionals because the majority of the club had things like SATs, ACTs, and college applications to worry about this fall semester. Artie's suggestion box was overflowing with songs, many of them from Brittany and inappropriate because she apparently listened to a "Wiggles" CD on loop.

"I'd learned to tune it out," Artie had mumbled at the askance glances Tina and Mercedes had given them after going through Brittany's suggestions.

Mercedes worked her glee loophole, too; or rather, her dear friends worked it for her. About a week into her grounding, Tina offered to host a glee meeting at her home where folks could drop in if they wanted, but it was primarily a song arrangement meeting. They'd narrowed down the group number to "Man in the Mirror" with Artie doing lead and Santana doing the primary backing vocals. Both Tina and Mercedes spent more time anticipating how awesome Artie was going to sound than any arranging, and the boy continued blushing and pushing up his glasses on his nose.

"But it's _Michael Jackson_," Artie insisted reverently.

"You killed 'Pretty Young Thing' with Mike last year," Tina reminded him and Mercedes nodded.

"Yeah, but that was for fun and _not_ for competition," Artie said on a sigh, but shook it off and grinned. "I'm excited, though. Never sang a full lead at a competition."

"You're overdue," Mercedes said, squeezing Artie's shoulder supportively.

"So are you," Artie said, "you know if you do a solo, we'll kill at Sectionals."

Mercedes shook her head. "Tina should sing the ballad, or at least consider it."

Tina chuckled and shrugged. "As long as it's not 'My Funny Valentine', I will!"

Mercedes nearly pissed herself from laughing at the memory, not even stopping when Tina took one of the throw pillows from the couch and started hitting her with it. She and Artie were still dying even as the doorbell rang and Tina went to answer it.

"That was a hilariously awkward moment," Artie declared after they calmed down. Tina returned to the living room with Kurt, Rachel, Finn, Mike, and Sam in tow.

"I think the ballad I should sing—"

"Tina called dibs, sorry, Rachel," Artie said, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

The brunette pouted but her boyfriend was there to kiss it away. Kurt rolled his eyes and sat on his knees behind Mercedes and hugged her shoulders.

"Hey, boo," Mercedes said, accepting Kurt's kiss on the cheek.

"Miss you, Mercedes. November needs to get here fast so we can have a sleepover—so much to tell you!"

"Because you don't talk during rehearsal," Artie teased.

"Yes, but that pesky singing makes it hard to hear each other," Kurt said, grinning.

"Are you guys thirsty?" Tina asked more loudly than necessary. "Mercedes, you should help me with the drinks…"

Mercedes looked at Tina as if she'd lost her mind but followed anyway, not the least bit surprised when Mike and Sam entered a few moments later.

"We'll be over here necking so you two aren't 'alone'," Mike said on a snicker and immediately brought his girlfriend into his arms.

Mercedes and Sam grinned at them, then each other, before Sam placed a tiny kiss on her forehead. "I hate this," he said in greeting.

"We brought this on ourselves, playing house like we did," Mercedes reminded him.

"Yeah…the Changs were happy your parents provided the punishment for us because…well…"

They both looked over at Mike and Tina who were becoming a little X-rated with their makeout session.

"I think they're sort of engaged, so it's okay for them," Mercedes said, shaking her head wryly.

Sam didn't reply, looking down at her with a contemplative expression. Mercedes did her best not to fidget and instead tangled her fingers with his in the pockets of his letterman jacket.

"I want to do more than play house with you," he said quietly.

Her heart fluttered and her lips automatically stretched into a smile even as her mother's cautions ran through her head. She tilted her face up and he rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing deeply.

"What do you want to do when you graduate high school?" Mercedes asked just as softly, running her thumb along his knuckles.

"Other than marry you?"

She paused, and so did her heart, at the nonchalant way he'd said it, as if it were a given they would be married. And maybe because it sounded so _right_, the inevitability of his tone and the statement, that Mercedes was compelled to play devil's advocate.

"We've not even been dating for half a year yet and you've decided you want to marry me," Mercedes said.

"Yes," Sam said, and frowned at her a little. "Didn't we just have a similar conversation about this?"

"Yes, and we'll continue to have them until I'm not freaked the fuck out!" Mercedes said sharply under her breath.

"You said fuck—!"

"Sam!"

He lifted his shoulders in apology but couldn't completely remove his amused grin. "I don't get it. You can say Mike and Tina are engaged with confidence but me telling you I want you to be my wife gives you the heebie-jeebies?"

That light flutter occurred in her chest again but she valiantly ignored it. "Mike and Tina have been dating for over a year. They've been through things."

"And we haven't?" he asked incredulously. "After these past few months, I feel like we've lived several years," Sam said, the amusement gone from his voice and replaced with frustration. "We don't have to get married _immediately_ after graduation. You have college and I—"

"Right! What _do_ you have other than impressions and a guitar?" Mercedes snapped, and instantly wished she could call back the question, or at the very least its cynical tone. Sam, for all his height and build, suddenly seemed to shrink to the size of the soda can on Tina's counter and looked at her with green eyes so full of hurt it almost made her double over in pain.

"Sam—"

"So that's it, huh?" he asked lowly, his voice colder than arctic caps. "You don't think I, Sam Evans, the dyslexic and poor son of a former IT sales exec and a teacher, can provide for you, Mercedes Jones, the literate and well-off daughter of a dentist and an event planner?"

"That's not what I meant—!"

He jerked his hands out of his jacket pockets, his elbows knocking into the dishes that were in the Cohen-Changs' drying rack, while Mercedes eased out hers. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mike and Tina staring at them, their eyes still clinging to the passion that had had them enthralled before Sam's commotion, though concern was starting to creep in as well.

"You two all right?" Mike asked, looking between them appraisingly.

Sam glared at Mercedes and scoffed, walking away from her.

"We're not done talking!" Mercedes cried, starting to follow him.

"Yes, we are, because I don't want to say something I can't take back; even though clearly you don't have that same consideration."

Mercedes stumbled back as if slapped; yet as much as she wanted to rush after him to clarify her statement, her pride and own burgeoning hurt kept her feet planted stubbornly in Tina's kitchen. Mike glanced at her in confusion before rushing off behind his best friend while Tina came up and placed a hand on Mercedes' shoulder.

"What happened?" Tina asked comfortingly.

"I mentioned a possible forever and Sam didn't like what he saw," Mercedes said sadly.

Seconds later, a supremely unsettled Mike returned to the kitchen with Sam nowhere to be found.

"We're gonna head out," Mike said, barely glancing in Mercedes' direction, but luckily she didn't see any censure in his gaze—just extreme discomfort.

"Is he outside?"

Mike nodded silently, and Mercedes marched right by him to confront her boyfriend. He was leaning against Mike's car and gazing at the stars and glanced down briefly to see who'd just come outside. The blond refused to look at Mercedes when he registered who it was, but this time she didn't let that deter her from approaching him.

"I didn't mean it like that," Mercedes said, touching his forearm. She felt the muscles beneath tense and she eased her hand away. "Sam..._I_ don't even know what I want to do yet! But we have to think about it, don't we? We can't do this 'forever' thing half-assed or we'll be ass out!"

Cold, jade-green eyes regarded her dispassionately and Sam pursed his lips before turning away from her once again, this time without a word. She heard a beep and then the doors unlock, and Sam quickly walked around the car and got inside. She stood there flabbergasted while Mike whispered a tentative goodbye and mouthed "sorry" to her as he passed.

Mercedes barely noticed the outside chill, her mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events, until she felt her jacket being draped about her shoulders.

"Look at you, seeing Sam off like an old-time Navy wife!" Kurt joked. "All you need now is a hanky to wave in the wind…and some wind…and an ocean…"

Mercedes made a sound that was a mix of a giggle and a groan and pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes, determined not to cry.

"Oh, Mercedes, I know this separation is difficult, but you two will make it. You know that, right?"

Kurt's optimistic words were a wrecking ball to her fragile control and she shook her head even as tears streamed down her face. He immediately turned her around and enfolded her in his arms, consoling her with consoling nonsense; but it wasn't going to work, not this time. How could she have been so insensitive? Her grandmother would always warn her that it wasn't what she said, but how she said it; and Mercedes had all but insinuated Sam wasn't good enough.

Which was laughable, considering he was the best she'd ever known. Yet he was all she'd known…and it was time for her to own the fact she accepted she didn't care she wanted him to be.

Mercedes hugged Kurt tighter and he took the intensified embrace in stride. Maybe it was a good thing they weren't allowed to see each other until after Thanksgiving. She was sure it would take Sam that long to forgive her.

If he ever did at all.


	19. Before It's Too Late

**Title:** Before It's Too Late  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Jones Family, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In any argument, someone has to give first.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam loitered by his locker, plucking random textbooks and notebooks out and piling them in his arms. He didn't know for which classes they were and he didn't much care, too enthralled by the sight of some other man making his lady laugh.<p>

He missed Mercedes' laugh.

They hadn't spoken in over a week, which was unusual even if they weren't allowed to see each other at the moment; but that didn't stop her from trying to reach out to him by having Mike, usually, hand him printouts of job opportunities for voice acting with local radio stations or talent casting calls she'd find doing Internet searches where all he needed was a webcam and a reliable broadband connection. She'd even had Kurt give him Cliff Notes to the books his English classes were reading; and if she'd had to read the same book in her classes, he'd find copies of the notes she'd taken or used slipped into his locker.

In short, his Mercedes had spent the entire week apologizing to him without saying a word.

He'd known he'd reacted badly at Mercedes' question as soon as she'd first tried to apologize in the Cohen-Chang kitchen, but it had hit directly at the center of his self-doubts, making him panicked and defensive. His lady could be brutally blunt at times, and it was worse because she was usually right on target. But Sam had still been raw from their latest talk and their punishment, so he'd lashed out at the one person he could.

His thirty seconds of triumph was in no way worth these ten days of defeat he felt; and she being unable to look at him actually hurt him more than her words had. Because this was glee club and one of the group's biggest gossips had been privy to what had gone down, everyone had been walking on eggshells around them, although Quinn, Kurt, Rachel, and Lauren all gave him stink-eyes so bad it made him want to wear Little Tree car fresheners any time he saw them. But whenever someone tried to say something, Mercedes would shut them down or shouldered all the blame herself. And it was different than when Quinn would try to play the martyr during any argument they had—Mercedes truly believed she deserved the frigid shoulder he was giving her.

"Walk with me," Puck had demanded during lunch yesterday and didn't even look behind him to see if Sam followed. For a split second, Sam had considered ignoring him, but Puck didn't go out of his way to talk to people unless he really had something important to say. They'd gone to the football stadium and sat in the stands, their trays balanced on their thighs as they'd looked over the field.

"Mercedes was the first person I told about getting Quinn pregnant," Puck had begun after both had made significant dents in their lunches. "And to this day I don't know why I chose to blab it to her, but I did." He'd huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Then she told me to back off and let Quinn make Finn the father like she'd been doing all along, and I'd never wanted to punch a girl so hard in the face—"

Sam had almost done a spit-take. "The hell, man—?"

"I was a lot different back then," Puck had said with little apology in his tone. "I didn't give a shit about anyone, especially not someone I used to slushie because I was bored. She didn't like me, either; but for some reason, she wasn't mean about her advice. She was truthful, unrepentantly so, and I had to respect that about her. She let me know where her loyalties lay, though, and it wasn't with me. I hated that feeling."

Sam had regarded him with a small grimace. "That's certainly changed." He didn't pretend not to notice the long conversations between the two at her locker and the even longer hugs whenever they greeted each other and said goodbye. The only reason he hadn't confronted Puck about it earlier was because Lauren had seemed unconcerned by their behavior, and there was no way anyone would cross Lauren Zises and be able to walk afterwards.

Santana had had to learn that the hard way.

But that still didn't mean Sam had to like the fact Puck made Mercedes _laugh_.

"Yeah. I dated her for popularity. Mercedes dumped me for integrity," Puck had said with a scoff and a head shake. "She _forced_ me to be Noah, wouldn't let me treat her like I treated every other girl—including Quinn—and I _hated_ her for that. But as I was jumping through all sorts of crazy hoops for a girl whose pants I wasn't even trying to get in, I realized Mercedes was the first girl I could ever truly say was my _friend_."

"I could see how friendship would be a difficult concept for you to grasp, considering you knocked up your best friend's girlfriend."

Puck had glared at Sam at that, but then had shrugged and conceded the point. "Hell, Mercedes herself probably doesn't realize this, but I consider her one of my best friends. She gives me space but is always there when I call, which, because I'm a jackass of a human being, hadn't been much over the past year. She does that a lot, actually—giving people space when they need it—she gave Quinn the fucking Grand Canyon of space all of last year from what I saw; but Quinn didn't speak to me much, either so…not that I blame her. Last year fucking _sucked_."

Sam had jerked on a loose thread on his letterman jacket and sighed. True, he wasn't the quickest guy around, but he wasn't dumb, either. Puck had basically told him he would have to be the one to bridge the gap between them before it grew to a Grand Canyon that would take a year to cross. He could barely make it a month without going crazy; no way in hell would he make it a year.

"This is the last I'mma say before I shake off this heart-to-heart by getting into enough devilment that will only get me detention because no fucking _way_ am I going to juvie again," Puck had started to conclude and sat up straight, looking Sam dead in the eyes. "There are very few people on this rock I'll go ride or die for, and Mercedes made the list. When Quinn went to live with the Jones family, I was over so often I kept a toothbrush in the half-bath next to the stairs, and all three of us would just talk. And a lot of times, Quinn would fall asleep between us and then it would just be me and Mama talkin'…talkin'…"

Puck had trailed off, his eyes looking at something Sam would never been able to see. He'd suspected Puck had lost his point when he'd started reminiscing, which was just as well since the bell had rung, signaling the next class would start soon.

"Basically, I should apologize and forgive her," Sam had said, standing and collecting his trash.

"For starters," Puck had agreed and they'd both begun returning to the main building. "You really should consult me in the future about how to deal with the ladies, considering all of your girlfriends thus far have been mine at some point—but if you fucking go after Zises—"

"I'm not like you," Sam had said firmly. "Or Finn."

"_Were_," Puck had corrected. "Can't speak for Finn, but I'm not like that anymore. Or at least I'm gonna try not to be. I'm gonna fuck up—I'm Puck—but I'm gonna care when I do unlike before. Did a lot of growing up since sophomore year; and yeah, maybe that means some folks here don't think I'm badass anymore, but I've just redefined the term for me. I'm cool with it."

They'd just passed the cafeteria and Sam had noticed Mercedes, Lauren, Tina, and Kurt walking ahead. And as much as he'd known it had been the perfect opportunity to talk to her then, Sam couldn't get his feet speed up to catch her.

"Chicken," Puck had accused with another scoff.

"With a healthy sense of self-preservation," Sam had muttered in return. No way was he confronting Mercedes with that crew as close and personal witnesses. He didn't think he'd leave unscathed.

But that had been yesterday, and today, now, it was just Mercedes, Puck, and a bunch of random people in the halls. He could talk to her today, _now_; and hopefully, Puck would choose to be an ally instead of a nuisance.

Sam approached Mercedes with purpose, catching Puck's intrigued eyes briefly, before tapping her shoulder. Mercedes turned with a glorious smile stretching her lips, and he couldn't help wincing when it immediately disappeared at her sight of him.

"Yes?" she asked, as if he were a stranger; but considering the past ten days, he might as well be.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For?"

Her flat tone needled him and he felt his irritation rise. Had she forgotten so quickly this whole estrangement had started because of _her_ insensitive words? He glowered at her, feeling defensive again, and especially so when she rolled her eyes, gave _Puck_ a kiss on the cheek, then started down the hall without another word to him.

"Wait a minute! I'm not done talking to you!" Sam called after her.

"Oh, so the wrong move, dude," Puck warned belatedly, hissing in a low breath while shaking his head.

Mercedes did a slow turn back to him, her mouth agape so she could let out an incredulous chortle. "_You're_ not done talking to _me_?" she snarled, placing her hands on her ample hips. "Let me tell you somethin' _Sam Evans_, that feeling you're feeling right now is the one that's been my best friend all this time since _you_ walked out on _me_ without a _word_ ten days ago!"

By this point, Mercedes was back in his face, her manicured finger poking him hard into his chest. "And _I've_ tried talking to _you_ since then, but _nooo_, nothin'! So guess what, this is _me_ walking out on _you_ and I hope you enjoy the view!"

Then she whirled around and started off, putting an extra sway in her step, he saw, because he knew every single gait his lady had.

"I am!" he called after her, just now noticing the several students and teachers in the hallways watching their drama unfold; and unlike yesterday, Sam chose to use this to his advantage. "I enjoy every view of you!"

She stopped walking and glared at him over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. "No! You aren't allowed to say that to me!"

Sam grinned evilly, stalking to her slowly as he began singing with _Barney's_ "I Love You" song melody. "I love your view, you love mine—"

"Stop it!"

"My girl just can't help bein' so fine—"

"Sam!"

"With a walk so fierce, makes grown men cry—"

"Ugh!"

"And speak in tongues, I cannot lie!"

Their audience started whooping and hollering, but Sam's eyes didn't stray from Mercedes. She stood frozen with her back to him, and he was close enough to touch. But before he could even do that, Mercedes was suddenly all up in his personal space with her fingers tangled in his hair.

"I'll show _you_ 'tongue'!"

Boy, did she ever, sticking hers right in his mouth to tangle with his just long enough to have him ready to go. But she pulled away the very moment he started to take the kiss to the next level and smoothed her thumb and middle finger around the corners of her mouth, smirking at him.

"You'll be cryin' buckets of tears tonight, won't you, Evans?" she asked, and this time walked off without looking back.

And yeah, he still enjoyed the hell out of the view.

Suddenly there was a sniffling sound beside him. "Hey, uh, Sam, you got a tissue, man?"

Sam's brows furrowed, just now remembering he was in the middle of the halls and everyone was still laughing and hollering at the scene he and Mercedes had unwittingly provided. He also remembered Puck had been there the whole time and was now, for some reason, currently hanging onto him as if he could barely stand.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked, turning the opposite way to football practice.

"I'm a grown man, and I'm crying, because your girl's view is _so damn fine_—! Shit! Gerroff me, dude! Just a _joke_!"

It was three classrooms before Puck finally managed to free himself from Sam's headlock.

By the time football practice had ended, not a soul had passed up the opportunity to get in a good ribbing with Sam, Puck the elated ring leader of the whole operation.

"I wish someone had recorded it," Finn said between snickers.

"I got you!" Artie said, and Sam looked at him with widened eyes.

"_What_?"

"Oh, hell yeah!" Artie said unapologetically. "Me and Mike have been watching on loop for the past ten minutes—"

Finn almost knocked Mike to the ground in his haste to watch the video on Artie's phone, and soon there was a crowd of football players snickering, laughing, and demanding Artie replay the video. Sam rolled his eyes, plotting the various ways he could steal that phone before Artie pulled a Jacob Ben-Israel and plastered it all over the Internet.

"You know Artie wouldn't do that to you," Mike said as they drove off to practice after Sam had mentioned the most outrageous plan yet to get Artie's phone—complete with Batman gadgets and a cape. "More to the point, he wouldn't do that to _Mercedes_."

"Mercedes, Mercedes, Mercedes," Sam groused and hit the back of his head against the headrest. "Why is everyone on her side?"

"I'm Switzerland in this," Mike said, "or at least I'm trying to be; but I think the punishment isn't fitting the crime in this case."

"Punishment," Sam said with a scoff. "I tried to apologize and she blew me off!"

"Like you did," Mike said, cutting off the engine when they pulled into the driveway, and put up a placating hand when he tried to argue. "I'm just saying, Sam, it wasn't as if Mercedes was wrong; and yeah, it really bites when your girlfriend argues with you—Tina can be a little impatient at times and it's _annoying_, but I try to listen to what she says before I decide to put my foot in my mouth."

"So you can bitch at me about her instead," Sam said, arching an eyebrow. There'd been many a night Sam had fallen asleep to Mike complaining about Tina's irritating habits, namely her gossiping and love for Angry Birds.

"I'm not stupid," Mike said, snickering. "Know your audience, bro."

"But in all the time I've known y'all, your arguments haven't led to ten-day silences."

"Again, I'm not stupid," Mike said, completely serious this time. "Who knows how long it takes for a wound to fester before it's beyond healing?"

Sam pled a headache and went upstairs to his room, skipping dinner. He didn't sleep very well last night, too anxious thanks to Mike's words and the fact nothing had been resolved with Mercedes. The next day only increased his frustration, particularly because the entire school pointed and laughed at him in the halls and he couldn't get Mercedes alone for two seconds to try his apology again until lunch rolled around. This time, he waited at her locker and didn't budge even when Kurt and Quinn regarded him with amused expressions.

"Have another verse to sing, Sam?" Kurt asked.

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned toward Mercedes. "_Please_ can we talk?"

"Say your piece," she said, opening her locker to exchange her books.

"Privately," Sam amended, glancing at the other two.

"I kind of want to hear this groveling episode," Quinn said with a mockingly serious tone. "What about you, Kurt?"

"Oh, definitely—I even have my phone ready. Blaine told me to document the next few shows—"

"All right, guys, enough," Mercedes said, giving both Kurt and Quinn kisses on the cheek. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

They both pouted but nodded, Kurt giving Sam a special evil eye as they passed. Mercedes leaned against her lockers and inclined her head.

"Go ahead."

"Let's go to the Lima Bean? I need somethin' ridiculously caffeinated right now."

"Are you paying?" Mercedes asked, arching an eyebrow. "Because if you're going there to break up with me, I can foot my bill myself…"

Sam got into her face at that question, making sure his mouth brushed against hers. "Just because we're on the outs right now doesn't mean we're not in a relationship." He pecked her lips. "I can be upset with you and still love you, Mercedes."

Her gaze softened with something akin to relief. "I could use a mocha…"

He held out a hand. She eyed it for a moment, then took it. Sam didn't move right away, just inhaled deeply with the peace he now felt that had been so elusive since he'd walked away from her almost two weeks ago. He felt a gentle squeeze to his hand and regarded her, taking in her tiny smile and returning a much larger one to her.

"We don't have all day, Evans; let's go."

They didn't speak on the way, Mercedes spending more time looking out of the window while Sam rehearsed what he wanted to say to her. As he did, he recalled what Mercedes' father had said about not being able to avoid hurting each other, and then what he'd just told Mercedes. He grinned a little, feeling bolstered even if he were still nervous as hell. He wished he'd spoken to his own father about what had gone down, except what had gone down had happened when he and Mercedes shouldn't have been seeing each other in the first place.

Much like this date to the Lima Bean, but that was neither here nor there.

He held her hand as they walked into the establishment and didn't let go of it until he had his espresso on one side of the small table and she had her mocha on the other. The scone they were sharing was in the middle of the table between them.

"Mercedes—"

"Before you begin," she interrupted. "I need to explain—"

"No, you don't," Sam said and sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You were, as you've always been, giving me the truth of things; and God forbid if I ever make you stop doing it. I just didn't like hearing this truth…that I'm in no way ready to be anyone's husband, and will probably never be good enough to be yours."

She glared at him hard. "Sam—!"

"But if you think that's going to stop me from making this a long-haul thing with you, think again," Sam said, leaning forward now and speaking intently. "I can admit I don't do a good job with plans, whether making them for five minutes or five years into the future; but one constant in them is you. You're there, Mercedes, and I don't want you to _not_ be there because I let my pride and hurt feelings get in the way."

The silence that followed was oppressive. Mercedes twisted her lips and took a sip of her drink. "I could work on my delivery."

"That would be _fantastic_!"

Mercedes snorted, her nose scrunching up adorably. "I was frustrated with you, yes, but Sam, all this talk of long-haul and marriage without any real discussion of how it could even _work_ makes it feel very empty, as if these are lofty declarations with no intentions of ever being fulfilled. And, damn it, Sam, you cannot get my hopes up just so they can crash and burn later. So, I'm gonna take my mom's advice and keep us tied to the ground until we can figure out just _how_ we can us move on up to the east side…or at least the hell out of Lima!"

He'd watched enough reruns of _The Jeffersons_ in his motel room to last a lifetime, even if he did think the show was funny. "You know, I don't know why Santana calls you Weezy when we're so the Willises…"

"You're not pudgy like Tom," Mercedes said with a prim sniff and another sip of her mocha. "And if anyone calls our kids zebras, I'll kick their ass so hard they'll be shittin' through their nose."

The declaration made Sam shiver with fear and the urge to get started on those kids right now, but he just took an ill-advised gulp of his espresso instead. It was still hot enough to cause discomfort, but thankfully not enough to scald.

"Thirsty?" Mercedes asked with a smirk, leaning over the table to wipe away at his mouth with a napkin. He dodged it and snuck in a kiss, letting her mocha mixed with his espresso, yet it was unable to mask the taste that was natively her. Mercedes chuckled a little and sat back when it ended, but managed to use her thumb to swipe at his mouth fondly before doing so.

"Missed these babies, definitely," she murmured. "Kissing you yesterday and now just reminds me how much I love your froggy lips."

Sam moaned and wished they could blow off the rest of the day, but they couldn't risk it. Nevertheless, he wrapped up the remainder of their scone in two napkins and stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor obnoxiously.

Mercedes mildly scowled at him. "Where's the fire?"

"In my pants," Sam said, waggling his eyebrows.

Mercedes burst out laughing and shook her head, rolling her eyes and not standing with him. "I can get a cup of water to douse it for you."

"There's another method that won't waste a drop of water," Sam all but purred.

She rolled her eyes again and looked away from him, but her shoulders shook and she did that little rocking motion that always happened when she was particularly tickled about something.

He helped her to her feet and held her hand tightly, kissing its knuckles as they walked out of the Lima Bean. He opened the passenger's side door of his truck but wouldn't let her get in, too busy kissing and necking her, giddy that he had his lady back in his arms where she belonged.

"We need to go so we won't be _late_," Mercedes sang against his jaw.

"Why do you have to be so responsible?" he complained into her cheek.

"Because I'm not going through another punishment like this again," Mercedes said seriously, grasping his chin and dropping a light kiss onto his mouth. "Seeing you at school just isn't enough, baby."

He playfully shoved her into the truck, Mercedes all but cackling in her mirth, and rushed to the driver's side. He buckled in quickly and cranked the engine, throwing the gear into reverse. It took everything in him not to gun it out of the parking lot, but he could've looked both ways more carefully before backing out of his parking space.

If he had, maybe he would've seen the minivan before it barreled into his truck.

His head throbbed from where it'd slammed into the window from the force of impact; but otherwise, he had full command of very sore limbs and a few spots danced in his eyes. He smelled metal and smoke, heard screams of passersby and his feet crunching shards of glass that had showered the floor of his truck, and fought with the catch of his seatbelt so it would release him.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and coughed against the sudden dryness of his throat, not even irritated that his espresso and maybe even a little bit of urine, if he were honest, had put out any type of fire his pants could've remotely had.

"'Cedes?" he asked, turning his face toward her even as he struggled to open his eyes again.

His ears couldn't hear the lack of response. He finally got his eyelids to rise, but his eyes couldn't distinguish her still form or the fact she was completely slumped against the dash of his truck. He shook her shoulder, and she slid over until she was draped against the center console, one deep crimson trail from her temple to her jaw lining her face while two streamed from her nose.

"No."

Sam couldn't breathe and each beat of his heart was excruciating. Shaky hands cradled Mercedes' face and slapped her cheek firmly. Not an eyelash fluttered; not a whimper sounded.

Nothing.

"Mercedes, this ain't funny; wake up, now," Sam said, shaking her hard and feeling ill at the way her head lolled from one side to the other. Her eyes stubbornly remained closed.

Sam didn't jump when his door jerked open, and he didn't respond when someone asked if he were all right. Instead he kept telling Mercedes to wake up and getting frustrated when she wouldn't.

"We gotta hurry back to school, remember? So we don't get more punishment," he said, his voice catching on a sob. "Lady, _please_…"

The passenger's side door opened and Sam barely registered blue-frocked men grabbing for Mercedes until she started easing away from him.

"No! Don't touch 'er!" Sam snarled and cradled Mercedes to him. He hiccoughed and buried his face in her hair, which still smelled like vanilla and the mocha she'd been drinking. She was still so soft and warm, but too fucking quiet. He tried to do impressions in her ear, falling back on her favorites of James Earl Jones and Denzel Washington, but his voice was too wobbly with his tears and Mercedes didn't even crack a smile.

"C'mon, Mercedes, c'mon," he cajoled, firming up his voice as he whispered against the bleeding knot at her temple. "You're gonna wake up, and we're gonna go back to the school, get our detentions because we're really fuckin' late now, and then go to glee and then beg our parents not to extend our punishment. And then, whenever you're ready, we're gonna get married and have kids, hopefully at least two—a girl that sings just like you and a boy who can play the guitar, and then they'll learn your grandma's recipes and I promise I won't make them tell me what's in those cookies and pancakes—"

"Sam…"

"And then we're gonna go to bed holdin' each other every night and I'mma wake you up with my froggy lips every mornin'," he vowed, rocking them both, heedless of his tears, "and I'mma love you every damn second of every damn day and you're gonna love me back, yeah?"

"Sam!"

"Go away!" he yelled and held Mercedes tighter, his fingers clutching her head to him. He wasn't walking away from her, not now…not this time.

A hard slap to the face made his head snap, and his enraged roar almost immediately died when he saw three concerned faces peering at him.

"You all right?" Mike asked while his mother cupped Sam's face. Mr. Chang spoke in Chinese and Mike answered, worried eyes never leaving his friend.

Sam blinked several times, touching tentative hands to his head and checking his lap. Not damp with coffee or blood. Empty too.

"I gotta go," Sam said breathlessly, in such a rush to get out of bed he fell out. "Mercedes…"

"I'll take you," Mike said immediately, looking to his parents for permission. They granted it with quick nods. "You're in no position to drive."

Sam couldn't keep still on the way to Mercedes' house and almost did the "Mommy Arm" with Mike every time they encountered an intersection. Mike had barely pulled up to the Jones abode before Sam jumped out of the vehicle and ran to the front door. He used the knocker instead of the far more efficient doorbell, just because he needed something tangible with which to shake out his nerves.

"Um, you mind telling me why you're bustin' down my door this late in the evening—?"

"Daddy, who is it? Something wrong?"

Hearing Mercedes' voice broke what little grip on his emotions he had, and Sam sank to the ground, his knees failing him. He felt Mike trying to get him to stand; but when a lighter, more floral scent reached him, his arms banded around the source and brought it down to him.

"Sam!" Mercedes asked, combing trembling fingers through his hair. "Mike? What's wrong with him?"

"I think he had a nightmare," Sam heard Mike say. "He didn't say much, but he was calling out your name…"

"Baby? Look at me," Mercedes coaxed, trying to pull back so they could accomplish the feat, but he tightened his grip on her.

"At least come inside, Sam," Mr. Jones said, and Sam allowed them to help him stand. "Mike, why don't you go on home. School night. We'll get him back."

Sam felt Mike squeeze his shoulder and heard him say goodbye. He clutched Mercedes back to him as soon as they entered the home. He didn't know how long they stood like that and wasn't even aware he was crying until he eventually pulled back. Mercedes dried his face with a tissue.

"Don't make me leave," he asked her, then turned to her parents. "Please, I'll sleep on the couch just…I can't leave her."

They didn't ask Sam any questions, just set him up in her brother's room; and he instantly slipped underneath the covers and fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep while Mercedes and her mother sang him lullabies.

* * *

><p>A few weeks ago, I'd asked for some prompts on Tumblr, and devoncarrots asked for this: <em>sam and mercedes (who are still secretly dating) get in a car accident and mercedes dies.<em> I hope it's acceptable!

**Also, I've had a few questions about where does the dream begin-it begins when he falls asleep after his talk with Mike in the driveway until the Changs wake him up. I'm sorry that wasn't clearer and thank you so much for reading!


	20. Refreshing Fate

**Title:** Refreshing Fate  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Jones Family, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Second chances are excellent things, particularly when one never realizes there was even a first chance.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Though barely two weeks had passed since their grounding had begun, Mercedes' parents had lifted the ban against seeing each other for them with both the Changs' and the Evanses' full support. They still weren't allowed out alone together until after Thanksgiving, but Mercedes would have gladly served the whole original term plus another month of it if it meant never seeing the terror in Sam's beautiful green eyes again.<p>

It'd been bold of her, but she'd asked her parents if she could stay with him throughout the night, arguing she'd done the same for Quinn and Kurt to provide comfort. Her father had snapped out an automatic "When the pope gives birth!", but Mrs. Jones had placed a quelling hand on his chest and directed his attention to the iron grip a sleeping Sam Evans had on her waist.

"They need each other," Mrs. Jones reiterated. "Whatever made that boy tear out of his home to see her…trust your daughter and trust the boy she loves."

Though Mercedes hated sleeping with the door open, she'd made the concession for her parents' peace of mind. Sam had only awakened once, when Mercedes had forced him to change into Micah's pjs, and waited to wrap her in his arms once she got into bed before falling asleep again.

Her mother had made a fuller breakfast that next morning before school, and everyone had stayed to share in the meal. Knowing he had to explain, Sam had chosen reveal his nightmare to them all. She'd held his hand while her father had become scary quiet and her mother had cried softly. Mercedes had just attempted to squeeze the blood out of Sam's hand, coming much closer to her morality than she'd liked.

"Again, I'm sorry I'd disrupted your evening—"

"Son, you always have a place here," her father had said. "And don't think I don't wear out my wife's phone if she's two seconds late—"

"He's exaggerating," her mother had said, rolling her eyes. "He gives me at least two minutes!"

They'd all laughed at that, though Mercedes had noticed the relief in Sam's eyes. When Mrs. Jones had asked him to help her clear the table, he'd all but jumped at the opportunity. Mercedes had begun to help, but her father had taken the dishes from her hands and hugged her close.

"If that boy ever asks me for your hand, I'm telling him yes," he'd whispered, squeezing her. "But if you ever tell your mama that, I'mma say _you'se a liar_!"

Mercedes had given a tremulous laugh and promised she wouldn't.

Because Mercedes had planned to be on lockdown this weekend, she hadn't bought or made a costume for the upcoming Halloween holiday; neither had Sam, so they, along with her parents, had decided to watch a scary movies marathon all Saturday…though Mercedes had spent more time hiding her face in Sam's chest than actually watching the movies. She hated being scared.

When _Final Destination_ started playing, however, Sam had politely asked they watched something more benign…like _The Smurfs_.

"You tell Mike I wimped out on a scary movie, then I'll deny you kisses for fifteen minutes," Sam had threatened as she'd walked him to the car.

"A whole fifteen minutes!" Mercedes had said with faux dismay. "Whatever will I do?"

Sam had laughed and held her tightly to him, resting his lips against her forehead. The tin of cookies she'd packed for the Changs dug into the space between her shoulder blades at his hug, but Mercedes didn't mind.

"If you'd been able to go to Rachel's Halloween party, what would you have gone as?"

"No idea," Mercedes had said. "I'd never gone to a party like that before."

"Really? Not even you and Kurt?"

"Well, we'd go to Tina's house with Artie as ghouls and goblins and witches, and pretty much do what we did today, except we'd watch 'scary' Disney movies instead!"

"What scary Disney movies?" he'd asked on a laugh.

She'd huffed. "Say what you want, but Maleficent is creepy as hell…" Mercedes had shrugged then. "But that hadn't happened last year because she'd started dating Mike and there was some football Halloween party and Kurt and I weren't invited."

A guilty look had crossed his face. "It wasn't as fun as today was?"

Mercedes had snorted and kissed his cheek. "Liar…"

"I bet you're a sexy witch, though, 'Cedes," Sam had said on a purr, drifting his nose along her cheek.

"I bet you were Casper, last year, huh?" Mercedes had teased, making him chase her lips.

"Actually, I was Spiderman," Sam had said with a wide grin. "But next year, I'll be Casper, and I'll be _very_ friendly to you," Sam had said, finally finding her mouth with his.

This time, the certain talk of an uncertain future didn't have panic seizing her, and Mercedes thought that was a very good thing.

It was duets week in glee, and she was surprisingly disappointed they couldn't choose their partners this year. Rachel had tried her best to get Mr. Schue to change his mind, but he wouldn't budge.

"We need to shake things up this year," he said. "Can't get too complacent, so we'll rely on fate again. This time I'm picking out the names—"

"We have an odd number—" Rachel reminded him.

"It's okay…I'll take one for the team and sit this one out…"

"Mike!" Tina said, shoving her boyfriend with irritation. "You suck!"

"Or how about the last three name in the hat are a trio," Artie suggested instead and earned a glare from Mike.

"Great idea, Artie!" Mr. Schue declared and brought out the top hat. "All right, guys, put your names in!"

Fate was in rare form today—Brittany and Puck; Tina and Rachel; Santana and Kurt; Lauren and Sam. Sam cast her a disappointed glance and squeezed her shoulder. She'd been hoping they would make it to the end together too.

"Next up," Mr. Schue teased on a long spoken note. "Finn and…Mercedes! Which means Artie, Mike, and Quinn round us out. This is going to be so awesome, guys—!"

"No way, Mr. Schue!" Finn cried immediately. "Can I switch out with Quinn or something—no way can I sing with Mercedes—!"

Mr. Schue goggled at him. "Finn—?"

"She'll blow me out of the water for sure!" Finn finished. "I can't compete—!"

"It's not a competition against each other, _Finn_," Quinn reminded him scathingly.

"And besides, you sing with me all the time, and I'm clearly the superior vocalist," Rachel added nonchalantly, patting Finn's hand.

"_Excuse me_?" Mercedes asked, glaring at the brunette. It was times like these that reminded her why they hadn't gotten along in the first place. "Don't make me hurt your feelings, Rachel Berry!"

"It won't be my feelings that'll be hurt," Rachel said with no apology in her tone. "There's a reason I get the solos, Mercedes—"

"Because you're a spotlight hog!" Lauren accused. "And you'd only choose or write songs for _you_ and _Finn_!"

"We've featured other vocalists!" Rachel defended. "Remember the sectionals where we _tied—_?"

"And remember the Nationals where we didn't even _place_?" Santana shot back. "Who sang lead then? Oh, yes, Frankenteen and the hobbit—!"

"Okay, everyone, enough!" Mr. Schue said, banging discordant notes on the piano. "Policy stands as last time we let fate decide—no switching partners. Finn, make it work with Mercedes; Mercedes, try not to overpower Finn; Rachel, learn to be a better team player. Seriously, guys, bring your best feet forward, because the winners will get the same prize as last year—dinner at Breadstix on me and leads in the sectionals competition!"

Protests began immediately. Tina raised her hand and shook her head emphatically. "This is not a good plan—!"

"On any level!" Kurt insisted, sending a baleful look at a smirking Santana.

"We _cannot_ do a 'My Cup' Part II, Mr. Schue!" Puck said, shooting a wary glance at Brittany.

"The remix is hot, though," Brittany said with complete seriousness. "Me and Artie have worked hard on it—"

"Uh, _when_?" Santana said, shooting daggers at Artie, who leaned closer to Kurt in a protective measure.

Rachel slumped back in her chair and sulked. "Well, I suppose a competition is the only way anyone else could take a solo from me—"

"Gee, _thanks_!" Tina said sarcastically, the bite in her tone making Mercedes shiver just a little.

"I didn't say anyone _would_, Tina, goodness!" Rachel clarified. "Please, you are with _the_ Rachel Berry. We will be unstoppable!"

Mercedes raised an eyebrow and then reached over to grip Finn's chair, dragging the jolly white giant closer to her. He bobbled ungainly but managed not to fall out.

"What the—?"

Mercedes cut off Finn and leaned across him to stare down Rachel. "_I'm_ gonna take it from you and _I'm_ gonna use _your man_ to do it!"

Rachel gasped.

"Uh, 'Cedes—?"

"Shut up, Sam." Her eyes never left her musical adversary.

"Yes'm," Sam mumbled.

Both she and Finn had to do some serious damage control after rehearsal, though, Finn more than Mercedes admittedly, but that didn't stop her from snuggling into Sam underneath his letterman jacket as they leaned against her car and solemnly swore she wouldn't let Finn's dulcet tones woo her away. Unfortunately, it'd taken three tries to get through it because she'd been laughing so hard, but she eventually succeeded.

"I'm glad one of us is amused," Sam muttered, clinging to her.

"You should be too," Mercedes said, kissing his chin. "I got my quarterback; Rachel can keep hers…"

However, Finn clearly had learned much from being Rachel's boyfriend and Kurt's brother. He was very discerning about their song selection, unlike the last time they'd performed together, to the point _she_ was getting frustrated that he didn't like anything.

"They aren't _us_," Finn complained, palming a football and shaking his head. They were in her den with her laptop in her lap and a plate of her grandmother's cookies in his. He'd come over directly after football practice; and though her mother had offered him some dinner, he'd said he wasn't hungry—except Mercedes had soon figured out he wasn't hungry for anything _but_ the cookies she'd made. Of course, that wouldn't fly for Mrs. Jones, so she'd made him sit at the breakfast bar and eat a little of the roast beef, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread she'd made for dinner. Finn had scarfed it down, but Mercedes had known Finn long enough to know all that food wouldn't keep him from eating all the cookies too. She'd pilfered four and put them on a napkin while hiding the rest in a tin in her oven so Finn wouldn't be tempted to eat them all before taking them home.

"They're show tunes," Mercedes said, biting off a bit of her cookie. "You _are_ dating the one and only Rachel Berry; I know you're comfortable with those."

Finn pulled a face and took a large gulp of milk. "The whole point of this is to shake things up—"

"We're _not_ doing 'Good Vibrations' again!" Mercedes warned playfully.

Finn scoffed and shook his head. "We couldn't, anyway; we don't have Pucky Puck to back me up…"

Mercedes laughed at that and nodded. "Well, we can sing whatever you're comfortable with singing. I'll even just hum in the background if that works."

He pulled another face. "I thought you weren't Kelly Rowland and didn't do that background singing nonsense!"

He'd said in the snappy tone she'd used, too, and she was more shocked than embarrassed at hearing her words parroted back. "Well, Kelly's not doing so badly for herself these days, is she?"

"That's not the point, Mercedes."

She arched a brow. "Yeah, but I'm surprised you even remembered that!"

He shrugged with a lopsided grin. "You're kind of hard to forget."

She frowned; something about his tender tone made alarm bells blare in her mind. "You hush up right now, white boy—"

Finn sighed heavily and shook his head, setting down the football and carefully placing the cookie plate on the coffee table. "I don't mean it in a bad or sketchy way, okay?"

"There are no other ways _you_ can mean it, Finn!" Mercedes snapped, scooting back on the couch and hugging herself protectively. When his face fell, hurt, Mercedes dropped her guard a little. "I'm sorry. Go on and say what you want to say."

He held out placating hands and gave her his undivided attention. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you're really intimidating, Mercedes."

Her scowl was immediate. "Wha—?"

"I mean, you have this presence about you that's just awesome, and you own it, usually; and then your voice…it's like a religious experience every time you sing…"

Mercedes shifted uncomfortably but masked it by straightening some of the magazines that were already straight on the coffee table. "I thought you weren't big on religion anymore."

Finn flicked his eyes to the ceiling. "C'mon, Mercedes, you know you're amazing."

"I do; for a long time I was the only one, though," Mercedes said. "Which was fine, because it was powerful in a way, to know I'm so awesome but only those who were worthy enough could see it." At least that was how she'd had to spin the loneliness and alienation in her head; and then Kurt had come along, and they'd banded together.

"Yes," Finn said, "but few seemed worthy enough for you."

"I had friends," she reminded him. "I had Kurt."

"I mean the 'cool' kids," Finn clarified with air quotes.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, because Quinn and Santana were clamoring to be my friend back in the day."

"I can't speak for them, but I wanted to be."

Mercedes rolled her eyes again. "Right. You were attached to Puck's hip, and he was already practicing his slushie arm by fourth grade."

"And here we are, years later, all in glee and friends…except for us still."

Now she frowned. "What are you talking about, Finn, we're friends!"

"You're Kurt's best friend; you're Quinn's best friend; you're Puck's best friend, even; Rachel's like the yang to your yin or whatever; you sing with Santana and Artie all the time; you hang out with Tina and Mike all the time; Lauren is your manager; Brittany looks up to you; and Sam is your boyfriend," Finn listed forlornly. "I'm just the dude you like to mock occasionally and who happens to be your best friend's brother."

"You keep making bonehead decisions, being mocked is the consequence," Mercedes said with a quirk of her lips. He returned it with a crooked smile and shrugged.

"I'm getting better, though, right?" he asked hopefully.

Mercedes chuckled a bit and nodded. "And I hang out with you," she reminded him. "We play video games sometimes when I come to see Kurt and I always have cookies for you; not to mention that week I was dating Puck you were always over his house and we had those ridiculous video-game marathons…where, may I remind you, I kicked both your asses!"

"Because Mario is _so_ difficult!" Finn muttered.

"And you _still_ lost!" Mercedes cracked.

Some of his amusement dimmed, and she internally winced. _Goodness, but he's really serious about this!_

She sighed but patted the space next to her. He looked at her warily for a moment, but came over and sat next to her. She wrapped her arms about his waist and he froze a bit before relaxing and returning the hug. He gave some really great ones; must be because of his epic wingspan.

"I had no idea you even cared," Mercedes said. "Well, Sam mentioned something about you checking me out—"

"_Crap_—"

"Seriously?" Mercedes pulled back, her jaw dropped. "I didn't think…you never…_really_?"

"You were the first girl to grow boobs in our class—they're nice, Mercedes—ow!"

She'd slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Girls are more than body parts, Finn!"

"And now you know why I never said anything to you! Abuse!" Finn cried, and fell over dramatically.

Mercedes snorted. "Also, you shouldn't say that to a girl you're not dating."

"Except, both Quinn and Rachel aren't blessed in the chest like you are; and they don't really appreciate comments like that, either."

"Because we're not just the sum of our body parts," Mercedes reiterated.

"I know," Finn agreed. "But is it so bad to appreciate the outside along with what's inside?"

Something inside of Mercedes loosed at that, making her think of Sam and all of their thwarted attempts, usually because of her. Finn was the third guy to affirm her in a physical sense, and maybe it was "third time's the charm" because Finn didn't have the same baggage Sam and Puck had. They'd never dated; they weren't interested in each other _like that_, and it was genuine appreciation that began and ended there. He was like one of those blind studies her dad would reference sometimes when discussing a new product he'd introduce in his dental practice, that unbiased voice that usually tipped the balance on a yea or a nay.

"It's definitely not bad, Finn," she agreed, patting his knee. "But I think we got a bit off track. We're supposed to be thinking of a song to duet."

"How about _you_ pick and _I_ hum in the background—?"

"No," she said firmly. "This is a _duet_. And Rachel had a point, loath I am to admit it—if you can hang with her, you can definitely hang with me!"

"It's actually less of a hang and more of a gripping for dear life," Finn deadpanned, and Mercedes cracked up.

To no one's surprise, Rachel and Tina were ready to perform their duet during the next meeting; but to everyone's surprise, and a bit of Mercedes' dismay, it was fantastic. Pat Benatar's "Love Is a Battlefield" fit both of their voices wonderfully, and the leads were actually evenly distributed. Mercedes wasn't a hater; she gave them a standing ovation along with the majority of the group, but everyone knew the other groups had to come with it or stay home, as the saying went.

"We need your help on our duet," Kurt admitted to her during the football game the next evening. "Satan and I have an idea, but we want to run it by you before we descend up the club."

"Isn't this cheating?" she'd asked him, hooking one of her arms through his for extra body heat. Blaine was on Kurt's other side whooping and hollering along with Brittany and Lauren. Trust Kurt to choose a rousing football game to talk about matters better suited for a warm room and a latte!

"Of course it is!" Kurt brushed off. "But the song selection is by your patron diva—"

"I have a hair appointment at Renée's at seven, so Santana and I'll be over your house at ten sharp."

"With more cookies, please? The tin never made it home on Wednesday…"

Mercedes thought their song choice was absurd and demanded they sing it in glee on Tuesday, even offering to fill out the background vocals when needed. She also suggested Santana sing Whitney Houston's part, though, causing a slight pout from Kurt; but he ultimately conceded the Whitney part wouldn't showcase his countertenor range to the best of its abilities.

"Besides," Kurt said, growing warmer and warmer to the idea, "it's quite believable Santana would lose a man to me."

"That's only because a woman has my heart," Santana had immediately clarified, "but if that weren't the case, it'd be on like Donkey Kong, Porcelain!"

Mercedes ended up staying at the Hudson-Hummel house while Kurt and Santana worked on their duet in his room, she and Ms. Carol watching the Ohio State game in the living room and catching up in general. Ms. Carol had jokingly asked Mercedes not do another rap song.

"As talented as my boy is, a rapper, he is not!" she'd said on a laugh, and Mercedes had to agree. It'd started getting dark and she prepared to retrieve Santana so they could leave; but everyone received a mass text from Mike to meet at Breadstix, and Mercedes offered to give Kurt and Santana a ride there.

Their group almost occupied the entire back section of the restaurant. Mercedes hugged Sam around the neck from behind where he was sitting next to Lauren, and thumped his head when he tried to snuggle it into her chest.

"All the time, dude," Puck said as he stood behind his girlfriend's chair, waggling his eyebrows and jerking his head to her. "_All. The. Time_!"

"Told you!" Finn had said triumphantly, sitting across from them next to Rachel.

"Told her what?" she asked.

"Appreciation is a good thing," Finn replied, winking at Mercedes.

"Damn straight it is," Sam agreed, pulling Mercedes down into his lap so he could kiss her properly. He and Finn must have come straight from the car shop because Sam had lingering oil marks on his jaw and neck despite his best efforts to clean up. She didn't mind, though.

"Although," Sam continued as he nibbled her ear. "Why exactly is Finn saying that to you?"

"Just letting me know it's okay for my man to let me know he likes the look of me," she replied.

Sam groaned, setting his teeth to her neck. "I _love_ the look of you…the feel…the taste…_everything_—"

"Yeah, enough of that—Mercedes is _not_ on the menu, Sammy-boy!" Artie called out.

"She's on _my_ menu!" shot back, grinning broadly at her. Everyone whooped and Mercedes took a seat on the end of their group next to Tina, far, far away from her trouble-making blond.

Because they were still partially grounded, Mercedes and Sam had to leave directly after Breadstix instead of going to the bowling alley later with everyone else. Mike and Kurt eyed them suspiciously when they'd both said goodbye, knowing they still had over an hour before their 10PM curfew came around, but Mike made a zipping motion with his lips and Kurt winked when they realized what the pair was doing. Mercedes followed Sam to the open field by the motel and climbed in the flatbed of his truck once they'd parked. Sam didn't even bother to do any stargazing, preferring to pick up where he'd left off with her at Breadstix. She was so glad she hadn't taken the blankets she'd had for yesterday's game out of her car; otherwise, it would've been even colder and more uncomfortable than it was already.

Sam started tugging down the zipper on her jeans, and Mercedes forced herself to relax. He kept throwing concerned glances her way and she smiled, cupping his jaw. He smiled as well, and his eyes never left hers when his fingers found her slick, swollen nub. Mercedes' breath hitched and her hips bucked in response.

"You're so beautiful, lady," he whispered, his voice full of awe. He scooted down and kissed one of her raised, denim-clad knees, making Mercedes shudder.

"Show me," she whispered brokenly, ignoring much of the early-November chill now because of the heat in Sam's touch and gaze. She wanted to put Finn's advice into practice. "Show me, baby…"

"I would, but I'm freezing my ass off right now!" Sam exclaimed.

She moaned in frustration. "Thanksgiving needs to hurry the hell on up!"

"But, I got you," Sam promised, slipping two fingers in her wet channel. "This is just a fraction of what I'd show you if I could…"

It didn't take long for her to soak his hand, and Sam muffled her cries with his mouth. Moments later, nothing but the sounds of the radio and their heavy breathing filled her ears.

"What about you?" she asked, slipping her hand down his torso toward the buckle of his belt. He grasped her wrist with his clean hand.

"Don't worry about me; besides, we have a little less than thirty minutes to get home."

His whole demeanor grew wary and Mercedes cupped his jaw. "Have you not been sleeping well?" He shook his head. "I'm right here with you, baby," she reminded him. "If you need to stay over…?"

"I don't have anything to wear to church," he whispered against her palm.

"We'll figure out something."

Her parents were already home when they arrived, watching _Steel Magnolias_ in the living room…sort of. Her mother was asleep against her husband while her dad was riveted to the screen, tissue in hand. He arched an eyebrow at their amused expressions.

"Don't hate," he said, sniffling slightly. Shirley MacLaine is hilarious in this movie!"

Mercedes decided not to comment on that. "Daddy, Sam would like to stay over."

Her father assessed the blond. "The Changs are all right with this?"

"They said it was up to you," Sam answered. Mercedes gathered he'd called them on the way over.

Mr. Jones nodded. "Fine, but stay in your own rooms tonight—doors open."

Mercedes found an outfit of Micah's that would fit Sam reasonably well for church, then they hugged each other goodnight in the shared bathroom between their rooms. The next morning they were both up making breakfast, sparing time to irritate each other with pancake batter, spatulas, and wooden spoons, then forgiving each other with kisses. During service, Sam asked Mercedes to come up with him to pray at the altar and she did, holding his hand the entire time.

Sam didn't stay over for dinner, having promised to meet up with Lauren to practice their duet; but that didn't mean the Jones family didn't have a guest for the evening meal. Finn had arrive not even fifteen minutes after Sam had gone, bouncing and beaming when she opened the door.

"I think I have a song," Finn said, and his excitement was infectious.

They barely sat through dinner, so anxious to get to work. Finn wanted to shoot for Tuesday; but between his duties on the football team and hers with glee leadership, they opted for Thursday instead. Yet there were three performances during Tuesday's glee. Puck and Brittany performed an early childhood favorite of "Steal My Sunshine" by Len, and she was less amazed that Brittany had chosen the song than she was by how well it'd fit both their voices. Sam and Lauren were up next and sang "Don't Tell Me" by Madonna, which was another excellent song choice, and gave her a visual treat watching Sam play the guitar and do a country shimmy. From Puck's slack-jawed fixation on Lauren, she figured the Mohawked boy thought similarly. But if the competition had ended today, Mercedes knew Santana and Kurt would be the runaway winners. They'd even put on a skit singing "Same Script, Different Cast" by Whitney Houston and Deborah Cox, selling it completely since they'd changed "lady" to "dandy" so it could be gender appropriate for Kurt. Mercedes and Artie were waving their hands as if they were in church and singing along, and everyone gave the pair a rousing ovation at the end.

"Maybe we need a new song," Finn said in a whispered panic at the end of glee.

"Too late; the jazz band is working on the music as we speak," Mercedes whispered back, glancing at the crowd hovering around Santana and Kurt. "Besides, everything doesn't have to be about winning—you should know that better than anyone!"

Finn blushed but gave a firm nod and a fist bump to Mercedes. "Onward!"

Finn and Mercedes spent every spare moment working on their duet, especially since Finn had insisted on working on his guitar skills to add to their performance. Sam had given her an encouraging hug before glee that Thursday and even Rachel had offered gracious encouragement. Mr. Schue had announced the final two groups would perform, and Mike had immediately shot up to take the floor.

"I want to get this out the way before I chicken out," he'd muttered to their teacher, but smiled when Tina had bounded down to give him a smacking kiss of good luck.

Pras's "Ghetto Supastar" was as hilarious as it was entertaining. Artie had Pras's verse while Mike was ODB and Quinn was Mya. Everyone was jamming, but Mercedes was too busy talking Finn down from his "I can't do this" ledge to fully enjoy it.

"Our song choice is too corny, Mercedes!" he said as they clapped for the trio's performance.

"What did we just hear?" Mercedes reminded him. "Finn, babe, we'll be fine. We're up."

He shuffled into position. "I forgot the guitar notes…"

It was all she could do not to smash the instrument upside his head in annoyance. But then he started playing, then singing, and Mercedes knew they'd be all right. As they performed, Mercedes barely tore her eyes from Sam, but she did grin when Finn stepped up to Rachel to kiss her cheek during the guitar break that wasn't all that bad. Yes, he wasn't as proficient as Puck, Sam, or Artie, but he'd worked hard at it, and it'd paid off.

When they finished "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?" by Bryan Adams, everyone applauded heartily, Rachel rushing to Finn for a hug and kiss while Sam sauntered up and eased her into the same.

"I know we still lost to Kurt and Santana though," Mercedes murmured against his lips.

Sam laughed softly. "Maybe, but you won all the awards with me…"


	21. Study Sessions

**Title:** Study Sessions  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In Sam's mind, the SATs weren't the only things that required a study session.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mercedes had made three tins of her cookies and all of them were empty within the first hour, Finn, Kurt, and Quinn taking the lion's share of them. Santana had snuggled into the ebony songstress and tried to persuade Mercedes to go make more, but Mercedes had kissed her cheek and told her cookies weren't going to help her get into college, but the SAT Prep session they were supposed to be participating in would. Sam had briefly considered teasing Santana about the Ziploc bag of cookies Mercedes had slipped him before the session had started, but then quickly squashed the plan because he didn't put it past her to steal it from him.<p>

Artie's parents were gracious hosts, his mother in particular seeming very excited her son had a throng of people over, even for something "unfun" like studying. Artie himself seemed happy everyone had decided to come over, and Sam was pleased for him as well.

Artie and Tina were leading the SAT Math prep section while Mike and Lauren did the SAT Verbal prep section and Mercedes and Brittany did the SAT Writing prep section. Sam used the video cameras on his and Mike's phones to record the sessions, he doing better with aural learning than visual.

"Hey, yo, Sam!" Finn asked, tapping him repeatedly on the shoulder even though he'd gotten the blond's attention. "Can I watch this with you later?"

"Or you can watch _now_," Sam stressed, cocking his head to where Mike and Lauren were reviewing word stems.

"Yeah, but they're going too fast and using big words—"

"'Big' is a big word for you, Finn," Santana said snarkily.

"That was cold, San!" Blaine accused and did an exaggerated shudder.

"I keeps it real," Santana replied and dusted imaginary dirt off her shoulder.

"Didn't Lauren put you in your place last year?" Finn asked, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder and glaring at the brunette.

"And I'm _about_ to do it again for _all of you_ if you guys don't shut it!" Lauren snapped, making the four of them jump like guilty preschoolers.

"Maybe we should take a break, though," Artie suggested with a sigh and pushed up his glasses. "I'm starting to have a metaphysical debate with myself over the letters 't-r-a' and how they hold so much power in turning '_con_' into '_contra_', which are two _con_flicting word stems…"

Everyone just stared at him, no doubt agreeing with his assessment because that comment was unnecessarily deep.

Tina and Quinn helped Artie gather more refreshments in the kitchen and Puck grabbed Lauren's hand to force her down next to him when she started to follow. Mercedes had caught Sam's eye and began to come sit next to him when a question brought her up short.

"Will the break be long enough for Mercedes to whip up another batch of cookies?" Blaine asked with complete seriousness, and Kurt's nod was just as severe. "_Some_ of us only got one—"

"Didn't I tell you it would be a difficult choice?" Kurt asked his boyfriend, wholly unapologetic.

"Yeah, but you could at least _pretend_ you're _con_flicted!" Blaine had said on a chuckle, kissing Kurt's forehead.

"Cookies!" Santana squealed, running on her knees to hug Mercedes from behind. Brittany joined in the song Santana began and snuck her head onto Mercedes' lap, clapping the time with her arms outstretched. Mercedes looked at the ceiling as if she were praying for strength. Sam smirked and continued recording the scene. He would send it to his siblings, no doubt recognizing themselves in the two teenage girls.

"See, I would do that but I don't think Lauren would let me get away with it," Puck said.

"No, you could…you'd just have to sacrifice an arm, though."

"Some things are worth an arm, Zises," Puck said, winking at Mercedes.

"Lauren, I thought you were my manager!" Mercedes said with an embellished eye roll. "I know I'm worth more than one measly arm!"

"You're absolutely right, Miss Jones," Lauren said and crossed her arms at her chest. "That'll be two, Puckerman, and not a limb less."

Puck nodded as if agreeing to the terms. "An arm and a leg to motorboat those babies—"

"_Nice_, Noah!" Rachel said with a sneer. "Mercedes! I can't believe you're letting him talk about you like that!"

"He's the one dumb enough to sacrifice an arm and a leg!" Mercedes said with a cackle. "I'm not responsible for his asinine decisions—"

"Excellent!" Mike said and pumped a fist in the air. "Great use of an SAT word, 'Cedes!"

Sam glared at his best friend who shrugged with less apology than he preferred.

More refreshments arrived, including pigs in a blanket, and Sam grabbed a handful of those. Mercedes snickered at his excitement of the snacks and he shrugged nonchalantly. He loved himself some pigs in a blanket…

"How long is this break again?" Finn asked around a mouthful of Cheetos. Every girl except Brittany looked at him in disgust.

"Eh, it's a school night so…probably nine?" Artie said, checking the clock on his cable box. It was barely after eight.

"How about we just call it a night, though," Quinn suggested. "We made a lot of progress and…I'm just really tired of studying!"

The rest of the club echoed her sentiment, so all packed up their bags with their books and notes.

"Do you need a ri—?"

"No, I don't want to go home," Quinn admitted to Artie, giving him a small smile. "I'm just bored and…I dunno…think it'd be nice to spend time with each other without talking about glee?"

"Since when did you want to 'spend time' with 'losers'?" Santana asked snarkily.

"Not sure, but considering we've always been friends…" Quinn replied, and slapped Sam's and Finn's hands when they cheered her on. Santana flipped her the bird but nodded with respect.

"Though I take great exception to Santana being a hater and calling everyone 'losers', even though she _willingly_ hangs out with us," Tina began with a mild glare at the other teen. "I'm with Quinn. Artie, where are those board games—?"

"Too many people for board games," Blaine said, then looked around conspiratorially. "What about another game of Spin the Bottle?"

"We are not nearly drunk enough for that," Rachel announced, earning faces of disbelief for that. "What?"

"Yell it louder? I don't think the folks in Toledo heard you!" Artie said on a harsh whisper and glanced down the hall that his parents could come down at any moment. Rachel's eyes went wide and she looked at them sheepishly, mouthing "sorry!"

"If you think about it, though, it could be even more interesting sober," Puck said with a grin, "especially if we add a truth or dare element…"

"I'm game!" Mike said, and Tina shook her head fondly. "I didn't get a chance to smooch because _some people_ decided to put on a performance during the game!"

"You smooched _me_," Tina reminded him.

Mike smirked and went in for the kill. "That I did," he agreed against her mouth.

Lauren rolled a Coke bottle into the center of their makeshift circle. "So, the rules are Kiss, Truth, or Dare. Whoever the bottle lands on either has to kiss the spinner, answer truthfully to the spinner's question, or do the spinner's dare. Agreed?"

"I don't know how much fun this will be for an hour," Kurt said skeptically while everyone else nodded.

"Well, considering that other Spin the Bottle game lasted all of ten minutes, I think we'll be okay!" Artie said.

"And the parentals around?" Santana asked.

"I suggest more smooching and less daring," Puck said, already reaching for the bottle. "And I'm first."

"Uh, why?" Rachel asked.

"Because I'm numbah _wah_, that's why!" Puck explained and spun the bottle on the portable dry-erase board that'd been used during their SAT Prep session. Sam didn't think anyone was surprised when it landed on Brittany, who didn't even seem like she'd been paying attention because she looked quite comfortable ensconced in Mercedes' lap with her eyes closed.

"Aw, yeah!" Puck exclaimed, already starting forward.

"Truth," Brittany said, and everyone laughed at Puck's gross disappointment.

"Guess Blondie isn't so dumb after all," Lauren murmured, and Brittany smiled, still not opening her eyes.

"And keep it PG-13," Rachel warned. "We don't want to get in trouble."

Puck's face fell as he tried thinking up parental-proof scandalous questions, but then his patented smirk returned as he leaned against his girlfriend. "Who's the best kiss you've ever had?"

Santana scoffed. "Everyone knows the answer to that so—"

"You're going to have to be more specific with your terms," Brittany said, interrupting Santana's cocky response. "Because if you just mean 'kiss' as in the feelings that come with it, then that's a tie between Santana and Artie. If you just mean how the lips feel together, then that's a tie between Mercedes and Sam."

The Mountain Dew Sam had started drink ended up decorating the front of his shirt instead as he gaped at his girlfriend, who also seemed to be having beverage challenges as she coughed against her sip of bottled water going down the wrong pipe. Brittany sat up and started patting Mercedes' back while trying to prevent Santana from blowing up.

"The hell you're kissing Mercedes for?" she asked.

"Research," Brittany said. "Remember you asked if she and Sam were going to—"

"But what does that have to do with _you_?" Santana interrupted.

"And why couldn't you do it where I could watch?" Puck barked, earning a slap on the head from his girlfriend.

"Should I be offended I didn't make the list?" Kurt asked her. Now all eyes swung to the countertenor and Blaine arched an unamused eyebrow.

"Oh, so I can't go on a date with Rachel but you can make out with Brittany?"

"That was _completely_ different!" Kurt tried, though Sam could tell Kurt didn't have a leg to stand on by the way the boy shifted his eyes and fidgeted, and now this time Mercedes snorted.

"Since when were _different_ and _same_ synonyms?" she asked.

"Oh, no, Ms. Thang!" Kurt sassed, shaking a finger at her. "Let's not divert from the real topic at hand, which is _how could you not tell me you made out with Brittany_?"

"We didn't! It was just a kiss that _she_ initiated!"

"How many times have I said the very same thing?" Puck wondered aloud.

Sam didn't miss the unimpressed glances everyone shot him.

"Anyway, Brittany, I dare you to kiss Mercedes again—"

"It doesn't work that way, Puckerman!" Lauren said, shoving her boyfriend with more force than required. He ricocheted back into her and snuggled into her front.

"It really should, though, just this once…"

"Okay, nobody's kissing Brittany but me from now on, _comprende_?" Santana announced with a glare to Mercedes.

The arguing continued amongst them all until Brittany crawled to the center of the circle and spun the bottle. It landed directly on Sam.

Everyone went silent and Brittany blinked at him expectedly.

"Dare," Sam said.

"I dare you to kiss Mercedes the way you've always wanted to kiss her—"

"Bump this—I'm going home!" Santana sat in Mercedes' lap to keep her from leaving. "If you don't get your _scrawny_—!"

"Just as I suspected," Brittany continued and shook her head sadly. Sam looked between the blonde and his girlfriend with confusion.

"What have you suspected?"

"She's still holding back, isn't she?"

"OUCH!"

Santana was ingloriously sprawled on the floor and Mercedes was out the den. Artie wheeled after her, and she stopped fleeing long enough to grab her stuff he'd collected for her and kiss his cheek goodbye. Sam shot a quick glance at Mike, who nodded once in understanding. He gathered his things, muttering a harried farewell, and rushed to the door. Artie had his hand out for him to slap and whispered good luck as he left.

"Mercedes!" he shouted, glad she had to park a ways from the house; or else, she probably would've been gone by now. Not that it mattered, though, because Mercedes didn't answer him. He growled in frustration but didn't let that deter him, climbing into his truck and following Mercedes all the way to her home. She was quick, but his legs were longer, so he caught up with her just as she reached her front door.

"Go away!"

"What was Brittany talking about?"

Mercedes fumbled with her keys and shook her head, but he wrapped her in his arms and covered her hands with one of his own. She shook, and not from the cold, yet he held her tighter anyway.

"I love Brittany, I really do, but she…" Mercedes sighed heavily. "I'm so damn embarrassed!"

Sam kissed the top of her head. "Are your parents home? I don't see the Tahoe…"

"Oh, no, it's their Thursday Night Jazz night. They liked my dad's friend's band that they saw a few weeks back so they have a standing invitation now. That's _two_ date nights they have…my parents are weird," Mercedes said with a scoff.

"Your parents love each other," Sam replied, taking the keys from her to unlock the door. As warm as Mercedes was, it was still below freezing outside. Mercedes flashed him a smile over her shoulder and led the way into the house. Sam closed the door behind her and placed her keys on the breakfast bar beside the mail. As soon as Mercedes set down her book bag, Sam cupped her chin and kissed her lightly.

"So…tell me about this kiss?"

"She kissed me in the bathroom," Mercedes said with a little frown. "Wasn't expecting it at all—why would I? Then that's when she told me I was fenced in, and I _told_ you about that, but I don't think I've gotten better about it…"

"Well, we did have that really bad argument a few weeks ago…"

Mercedes clutched the halves of his letterman jacket and huffed. "I still can't believe I was such a bitch to you…"

"Remember that talk I had with your dad like a month or so ago?" he asked, massaging her shoulder. Mercedes met his eyes and nodded. "He said there were times he and your mom would say really mean things to and about each other despite the love they felt. I got it, you know, in theory, but that in practice stuff…it really _hurt_, Mercedes—"

She pulled away from him, shoulders slumped even more, and noticed her dashing tears away before turning around.

"Sometimes, Sam, I think you're too forgiving."

"What?" he asked on a surprised chuckle. "How do you mean?"

"I said something _really_ hurtful to you—"

"You didn't mean it," Sam said. "I know you didn't." He turned her around to face him, using his thumb to catch her lingering tears. "And I wouldn't talk to you for over a week! You got mad at me for that."

"I did," Mercedes said. "I deserved it. Sometimes I don't think before I speak; I'm still working on that…"

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

She gaped at him, then pushed him a little, but he just laughed. "You've never hurt me, though," she continued, her humor gone now. "All you've done is love me when no one else has, and I pay you back like that?"

"It was a verbal swift kick in the ass that came from a place of love, Mercedes," Sam said firmly, bringing his other hand up to completely frame her face. "You weren't saying it to be hateful. You want me better, to reach my fullest potential so we have the best shot we could possibly have. _That_ is love."

"There's a saying the people you love the most are the people you can hurt the most," Mercedes whispered. "I didn't get how true that was until then. I'm really, _really_ sorry, Sam."

He kissed her apology away. If they never brought up that moment again, Sam would be all for it. Yet Mercedes pulled away, and he looked at her in confusion.

"I don't want you to kiss me like that," she said.

"Is something wrong with my kisses?"

"Oh, _Jesus_, no!" Mercedes insisted, comically fanning herself, and Sam grinned happily. "But Brittany's dare…? To kiss me like you've always wanted to kiss me?" She smoothed her hands down his chest and came up flush against him. "_I_ dare you to."

He felt his eyes spark and he leaned down so they could share breath. "What time are your parents back?"

"Not until after 11."

"And it's not yet nine," he said, glancing at her wall oven's clock. "Oh, yeah, I have time before curfew to kiss you like I've always wanted…"

He grabbed her arm and rushed up the stairs, Mercedes and her shocked laughter trailing behind him. He immediately went to her room and closed the door to just a crack, but didn't move from the door as he watched her.

"Your routine first," he said.

"My routine?"

"Bra and jewelry off," Sam said with a smirk. "Or just everything off; I'm not too particular."

She arched an eyebrow at him and placed a hand on her cocked hip. "I have to be naked for this dare?"

His eyes sparked again. "If I had my way, we'd _always_ be naked, Mercedes Jones…"

She eyed him carefully for a beat more, then did a little bracing shake and turned her attention to the mirror. As he watched her undress, Sam stripped as well until he was stark naked with a raging hard-on. He licked his lips when her breasts were revealed, his mouth yearning for her hardened nipples. She smoothed her hands down her sides and glanced at him.

"Okay...here I am, baby," she said as she looked back in the mirror one last time, singing a lyric from the Al Green tune.

"Take me by the hand," Sam continued, reaching his hand to her; and she took it, her eyes brightening that he knew the rest of the lyric.

"Squeeze me," she sang. Sam squeezed her hand, making her laugh.

He continued humming the song as he kissed her, walking her to the bed. He turned them around so he sat first, then brought her into his lap. They both hissed when his cock found its home between her thighs and Mercedes ground into him.

"Fuck," he whispered and buried his mouth into her neck, his arms like steel around her. "_Fuck_."

"I love it when you hold me like this," Mercedes confessed, tangling her fingers in his hair.

"I love it when I hold you at all," he said against her collarbone. "And when you hold me…I feel so protected in your arms, lady."

"Here I am, baby," she sang. "Come and take me, take me by the hand—_oh_…"

He'd slipped a hand between them and palmed her pussy completely. She was already wonderfully damp, and he massaged her outer lips with tender strokes. Mercedes threw her head back and gasped, her hips catching his fingers' rhythm, and his cock throbbed almost painfully. He tightened the other arm about her waist and shifted until she was on her back. Sam hovered above her, his fingers never stuttering, and he met his lips with hers again. Mercedes caught his face in her hands and kissed him so hard stars danced behind his eyelids and he had to break it to catch air.

"I hope you didn't kiss Brittany like that!" he said once he had proper breath.

Mercedes laughed and rolled her eyes. "It was all ninja-like—one minute I'm talking the next I had a mouthful of Brittany!"

His dick twitched against her inner thigh and she moaned.

"I hope you know that doesn't count," he said into her jaw.

"What doesn't count?"

"That kiss," he explained, moving down her neck to the valley of her breasts. He gathered the twin mounds and pressed them together so her nipples were side by side. He stared in wondrous fascination before licking them both with the broad stroke of his tongue. Mercedes keened, her legs falling open to better fit him in the cradle of them. Her thighs were warm and slick with her juices, and he unconsciously ground against her.

"Sam, shit, _Sam_," she moaned, her fingers yanking on his hair now. "Baby, baby, _please_!"

He would grant her no quarter, reluctantly moving from her glorious breasts down to her navel. He nuzzled it, caressed it, and tried very hard not to linger on a possible day in their future when he would speak N'avi and Vulcan to their unborn child. He couldn't help stealing a glance at her, and the tenderness in her gaze had him blushing and ducking his head.

"I'm grounded," Sam murmured right above her pelvic bone. "I'm grounded…"

"I'm grounded with you, boo," Mercedes promised, smoothing her hand along his head. "Right there with you."

He smiled shyly and continued his kisses. She trembled more the further south he went, and he caressed her thighs and knees to calm her. He didn't want a repeat of the last time he'd attempted this. He didn't get to spend as much time down here then, so he wanted to make up for it now.

"Sam?" she whispered, her hand becoming unsteady as she continued her strokes. "I don't know about this…"

"You promised, remember?" he asked, kissing the inside of her thigh. "That shower before we went to church. You promised to let me love you."

"I didn't know you meant like _this_, though!" Mercedes replied sharply. "Yeah, I thought about it but I didn't actually _think_ this could happen to me!"

Sam heard the trepidation in her tone, but he didn't respond. He'd also told her he wanted _everything_ with her; and for someone who was a top English student, she'd been having problems with that particular vocabulary word for a while now since it seemed she didn't know what _everything _truly meant! Ironic, considering she'd been killing the verbal section during SAT prep earlier…

Grinning smugly to himself, Sam touched his nose to her mound and inhaled. She was salty, almost like the sea, and very wet. He spread her nether lips apart and whimpered at the sight of her engorged clit. It and her vaginal muscles pulsed, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

"Sam?"

He kissed her, letting his tongue gather her wetness and moaning at her taste. Salt and a little tangy, but she was fucking delicious.

"Ohmigod, _ohmigod_!"

Sam would've smiled if he weren't so focused on her texture and taste. She was so soft and hot…he could kiss her here for hours. It might even beat her breasts as his second favorite place to kiss now.

Her mouth would always be number one.

She tried to scoot back but he strengthened his hold on her. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, catching her eyes. Her jaw was slack and her gaze was dazed, and Sam wondered if she could be any more beautiful. Unable to stop himself, he surged up her body and kissed her mouth, swallowing her shocked shriek as he undulated his hips against hers.

She pulled back with a perplexed expression.

Sam breathed harshly out of his nose and shook his head. "Damn, Mercy, baby, I'm sor—"

"I taste like that?"

He noticed the flicker of concern on her face and cupped her cheek. "You taste amazing," Sam said, brushing their noses together. "And I'm not finished eating you."

Mercedes burst out laughing, then it turned into a groan when he slid back down her body and sucked her clit. He'd definitely found his new favorite candy, loving the way it throbbed against his tongue and how far he could draw it in his mouth. Moaning himself, he slid two fingers inside of her and used his thumb to stroke her folds. He was on the brink of an orgasm and rubbed his cock against her bedspread to help it along, but Sam desperately wanted her to come first.

In his mouth.

"Let go, lady," he whispered around her. "Let go, love. I got you, I'm here."

She couldn't get a proper breath, if her hitched gasps were any indication, so he thrust his fingers faster. Her shaking became more pronounced until finally she let out a low, yet long guttural groan and her juices coated his tongue. Her climax triggered his, and it felt like eons had passed before he finished coming.

He helped bring her down from the high with nuzzles and kisses around her center, then started an upward path along her body with soothing kisses and strokes. When he reached her chest, Mercedes bent forward to kiss the top of his head and he snuggled into her.

"That was the kiss I've always wanted to give," he said after a moment and cupped her cheek. "Did you enjoy it?"

Mercedes bit her lower lip but nodded. "I thought boys didn't like doing that."

"I love doing that…you learn a lot about how to pleasure a girl by doing that," he said, caressing her cheek. "And if you're not pleasured, then I'm not doing my job right."

"Boy, you went to town like the rent was due!"

Sam snickered and sucked a nipple, relishing in her gasp. "I'm a hard worker, 'Cedes; I'm not afraid of a little toil."

"You Hufflepuff you."

"Best house in Hogwarts, lady," Sam said and she smiled, trailing a finger down his nose.

"Best man for me, _dude_," she replied, kissing him. Sam rose until they were finally level, and his cock was hard and ready to go again. They couldn't, though, not now. It would be too rushed and he wanted hours to savor every moment of their first time.

"I should go," he said, kissing her forehead and starting to leave, but she pulled him down atop her.

"You feel like power," she whispered, kissing his shoulder and running her hands down his back. "God, I can't believe you're mine…"

Sam's mouth met hers again, and his large hands stroked her curves. "You feel like life," he returned. "And I thank God every day you're mine."

Mercedes kissed him harder at that, but he reluctantly pulled away so he could make his curfew. They weren't serving another punishment if he could help it.

Mercedes put on her robe and helped him dress, her hands naughty and lingering to the point Sam had to finish in her bathroom and lock the door.

"You know I could just come in through Micah's room," she'd teased, so he'd playfully locked the other door too. As he finished dressing, he thought of all manners of unsexy things to get his cock to soften. He really didn't want to drive home with a boner; that wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world.

When Sam felt safe enough to come out, they walked to her front entrance arm in arm and kissed each other softly when they reached it. Sam cupped the back of her head and rested his lips against her forehead while she continued hugging his arm.

"Thank you for this evening," he murmured.

"That was one hell of a _kiss_, Sam Evans," Mercedes began, pulling back to meet his eyes. "No damn way were you doing that in the middle of the circle!"

He laughed heartily at that and kissed her forehead again. "Private kisses, lady."

"Damn straight, they are!"

"Ones I hope to give you many more times in the future," he added, smiling into her temple.

Mercedes burrowed into his chest and kissed the space above his heart. "That can be arranged, boo."

Loath as he was to leave, Sam tilted up her chin for one final kiss and told her to stay in the house because it was too cold for just her robe. That didn't stop her from seeing him off through her window, and he honked and waved as he passed. Luckily, he made it home with five minutes to spare, and Mike looked at him with an appraising eye.

"All good, bro," Sam said, slapping his foster brother's hand.

"Good. I don't like it when you two fight," Mike admitted.

"It's not a walk in the park for me, either," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, but…did she go into detail about Brittany, though? You know Puck wouldn't leave it alone—Santana, Lauren, _and_ Quinn had to threaten sneaking into his house and cutting off unmentionables before he would.

Sam smirked and shook his head. "Nah, we had our own kissing to catch up on…"


	22. Sticks, Stones, and Short Cuts

**Title:** Sticks, Stones, and Short Cuts  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-15  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Santana Lopez, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Whoever said words couldn't hurt was a bald-faced liar in Mercedes' opinion.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Truthfully, Mercedes had rarely ever lusted after the popular boys in school. Sure, she saw, visually, guys like Puck and Finn were cute; but she never gave it a thought beyond that. She likened it to window shopping at the mall—stop and admire the really cute outfit on the mannequin and then keep it moving because the likelihood the store had that outfit in her size was slim; and if they did have the outfit, it looking just as cute in her size was even slimmer. Granted, she could make any outfit her own; but at the majority of those prices, it would be a waste of money to do that.<p>

She'd tried with Puck, and in many ways counted that as a success because she'd gained a kickass amigo out of the deal; but there were extenuating circumstances with the Puck Experiment: she'd been popular, he hadn't been, and it'd lasted only a week with little hard feelings when it'd ended.

The Sam Experience was a whole other stratosphere.

After that hiccup of the Homecoming game, the McKinley Titans had been on a tear, winning all of their games, and sometimes unquestionably. It seemed having two quarterbacks made Finn and Sam step up their game, because both were phenomenal in that position; but if Mercedes had to choose one for Sam to play fulltime, it would be cornerback. He could read offenses like a pro and almost caught as many balls as Puck did at wide receiver. The school had started to call him Shutdown Sam.

And then…some girls just started to call him, period.

Intellectually, Mercedes realized those who played the most popular sport in the school would, in fact, be deemed popular in the overall student population; what she hadn't realized was this popularity making a large subsection of the population develop amnesia over the dating statuses of these players. The glee girls would watch in incredulous awe at the way females would flock and hover around the glee members of the football team, and even more so when the boys would eat up all that attention.

Especially after school.

"Can I bash his head in?" Lauren asked, slamming her locker shut with more force than required. Tina and Mercedes winced at the faux deadpan question even as they watched Puck smirk and flex his muscles for a bunch of sophomore Cheerios. The way the girls sighed and giggled almost made Mercedes gag, and she was sure Santana actually did throw up in her mouth a little.

"Were we ever like that?" Quinn asked with an "I smell bullshit" face at the way a freshman Cheerio hopped in Artie's lap and gave him a hug.

"Yep," Tina said, then cocked her head to the side when she saw a non-Cheerio girl slip her hand into the back pocket of Mike's jeans and wink at him over her shoulder. "Excuse me while I snatch her bald—"

"Wrong time," Santana said, catching Tina's book bag to stop her. "Wait until after the halls thin."

"You shouldn't be advocating violence, Santana!" Rachel hissed

"Oh? Well, don't look now, Hobbit, but Frankenteen is about to get smooched and there's no kissing booth anywhere in sight."

Sure enough, a girl made a running leap and managed to clip Finn's jaw; Finn was so surprised he yelped like a prepubescent boy and flailed as if a barnacle had suddenly clamped on to him. Sam went on extraction duty and pulled the girl off. Apparently, Sam was an even better option than Finn, for the girl squealed and shrieked as if Sam were a rock star. The "WTF?" face Sam pulled was so hilarious Mercedes hid her face in her locker and burst into laughter.

"Glad you're amused, Jones," Lauren said, but she snickered as well.

"I mean…I can't blame the girl, you know? Sam has some _really_ nice arms…"

"This is a fair and accurate statement," Lauren conceded.

Mercedes laughed. "Checkin' out my man?"

"Well, you check out mine; I figure tit for tat," Lauren said, but smiled and winked at Mercedes. Mercedes laughed more and they slapped hands. While she and Lauren still weren't super close, Mercedes would always appreciate the wrestler for encouraging Mercedes to assert herself more—even if she did choose one of the most ridiculous methods possible. Mercedes would even say she looked up to Lauren a bit—beyond literally, at least; she didn't let the fact she wasn't stereotypically beautiful sway her from knowing she was the HBiC and of _course_ a guy like Puck had the good sense to want her. Many people thought Lauren had him by the balls, but Mercedes knew it was actually she had him by the heart.

"But what I _don't_ appreciate is some little skank thinking she can push up on my man and I'm _right here_!"

The girl who was trying to cuddle up to Puck didn't even move, just turned her head and looked at Lauren as if she were short, which was laughable since she was almost as tall as Puck.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you! I ain't stutter!" Lauren called, arching an eyebrow over her glasses. "Back off before I yank you off!"

The girl scoffed yet pulled away, though not before dragging a finger down the center of Puck's chest. Puck had his eyes wide open and his hands up as if he were surrendering, mouthing "Please don't kill me!" to Lauren. Mercedes would've been amused if there weren't a redhead trying to do the same with Sam, but she was even bolder than Puck's raven-haired floosy

This trick had the audacity to pull Sam's head down and whisper in his ear. Poor Sam was much too nice. He was clearly uncomfortable given the way he kept trying to scoot his body back, but she had an iron grip on him. It was the rare occasion Mercedes wished he weren't such a gentleman so he'd shove the girl away, but that wouldn't make him Sam.

"Yeah, could you not ever do that again, especially when my lady is right there," he said, finally able to take a large step back and pointed in Mercedes' direction. Mercedes quirked her fingers sarcastically and gave an overly large smile in response.

"Oh, I didn't know you were dating," the redhead trilled.

"Is this trick crazy?" Santana asked.

The redhead's eyes went wide with faux innocence. "I swear! It's not like they act like a couple or anything; I just assumed they were friends."

Mercedes rolled her eyes; she didn't have time to school this little girl. Glee was about to start.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Tubbies," the black-haired girl said with a sneer just as they started to turn away. "Guys like that can only date for charity for so long."

The glee girls paused. "What did you say?" Mercedes asked while Lauren stood straighter and squared her shoulders.

"I mean seriously!" the redhead continued even more softly with a scowl. "I don't know why he's with you, anyway! You're nothing but a fat nigger bitch!"

The hateful whisper rang in Mercedes' ear, as did the gasps her friends gave as the disgusting comment reverberated around them. She frowned in disbelief, knowing good and hell well she hadn't heard what she _thought_ she'd heard, but just in case…

"Run that shit back! Run that shit _back_!" Santana snarled and started advancing, but Brittany wrapped her arms about her waist and prevented her progress.

"I don't have to listen to you, either!" the girl said, but obviously had enough sense not to repeat it now that the entire hallway was looking at them. Santana liked her drama, but she never stirred it for shits and giggles. There was a reason she was about to start some mess in the hallway, and everyone wanted in on it.

"And she doesn't need to repeat it," Mercedes said calmly even though her hands shook like the tambourine in her church. "And I certainly don't need to hear it again—"

"But he will, you know!" the redhead continued, her voice growing with the false sense of security she had since no one had taken a swing yet. "One day, Sam's gonna realize what a _gross fat bitch_ you are and leave you! And I'll be right there, you coon!"

"Wow, she reached _way_ back for that one! Clearly someone's white-trash daddy never left the fifties!" Santana hissed.

"Whatever! _You're_ just a coon who speaks Spanish!" the redhead declared. "I bet that's why Sam dumped you—"

This time, Mercedes grabbed both Santana and Lauren when they lunged for the girls and marched them down the hall in the opposite direction, right by a flabbergasted football team.

"And _I dumped Sam, you uninformed puta!_" Santana yelled down the hallway. Mercedes didn't stop walking until they were out in the bitter cold, her eyes scanning the student parking lot.

"Why are we out here?" Lauren asked.

"Because we all need to cool down," Mercedes said, "and if we can find the bitch's car, so much the better—"

"She's freshmeat," Lauren said. "No car."

"And don't you go to jail the next time you vandalize someone's hoopty?" Santana asked.

Mercedes closed her eyes and clenched her fist but continued to walk towards the football field instead. The racist heffa wasn't worth the trip to the slammer; but she wanted to hit something or throw something—hard…preferably her fist right in that skank's nose.

"But, really, _coon_? I thought they only used that term in Florida nowadays," Santana said on a wobbly scoff. Mercedes grabbed the girl's hand and squeezed.

"I'm sorry, Mercedes, Santana," Lauren said.

"Why are you apologizing? They were rude to you too," Santana reminded her.

"Well, the thing is, I _am_ fat, and I _am_ a bitch when warranted, so she was merely stating the facts as they were. But what she called you two…"

They stopped at the fence but didn't go inside the stadium. They would be late for glee, but Mercedes didn't care about that right now. She didn't want to deal with the questions and the pitying looks. This had been the first time she'd confronted the vile word head-on, but this wasn't her first time at the Racism Rodeo; and she knew for a fact it wasn't Santana's first time, either. That didn't mean it didn't hurt whenever it happened, no matter how subtle it was.

"It's bullshit," Santana finished for Lauren.

"Yep."

"I'm going home," Mercedes announced. "I can't…" She shook her head. She didn't have the energy for glee.

Santana nodded and linked her arm through Mercedes'. "Can you drop me off too?"

"Yeah, apologize to Mr. Schue for us?" Mercedes asked Lauren.

Lauren nodded, then impulsively wrapped them both in a hug. Mercedes almost broke down then and there, but she and Santana just returned the hug fiercely.

Not even the radio played as they drove to Miss Renée's salon, both too wrapped up in their thoughts to speak. Mercedes parked in the lot for the strip mall where the salon was located and saw Santana breathe a sigh of relief that the shop wasn't busy. Miss Renée looked at them with concern.

"Aren't you early?"

Santana nodded and plopped down in one of the beauty chairs, using her feet to twirl around in it.

"¿_Qué pasa, sobrina_?" Miss Renée asked, stepping behind Santana and combing her fingers through her hair, pulling out three razor blades in the process. "What's wrong?"

Santana pulled a nonchalant face. "Oh, nothing but being called niggers and coons at school today—"

Miss Renée yanked a hot comb out of the heater stove and started for the exit, but Santana grabbed her wrist as she passed, unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. "¡_Tía_!"

"¡_Déjame, chica_!" Miss Renée ordered. "Let me go so I can handle—!"

"This isn't the first time it's happened," Santana muttered. "If it's not nigger it's spic; if it's not cunt it's whore; if it's not lesbo it's dyke. It just becomes exhausting to have to kick everyone's ass all the time."

"So we don't talk about it," Mercedes said, sitting in the beauty chair next to Santana. "But this is the first time I got nigger to my _face_. They usually tap dance around that one."

"They have no qualms about spic," Santana said. "I even get wetback, and I'm not Mexican."

"Nobody cares about being accurate when they're disrespecting you," Miss Renée said, placing the hot comb back in the stove and shaking her head. "Black kids up here couldn't understand why I was 'speaking so weird'; because being able to speak Spanish is _weird_. Then your mother moves to New York and has you and she's so glad _tienes buen pelo_ and I almost cussed her out over that."

Santana sunk further into her chair and glowered. "I hated that hot comb."

"I refused to put the creamy crack in your head until you were ten; and I still think that's too damn early," Miss Renée said.

"Your mom's right though," Mercedes finally said, "You have gorgeous hair, Santana."

"And so do you," Miss Renée said, looking at her sharply. "Don't ever be ashamed of the Africa in you, ladies. I know it's hard…trust me. I didn't come out the womb this assured, but living life and having people tell me I wasn't black or I wasn't Latina because of categories imposed on us by folk who weren't _either_…and living in _this town_? If I can get little black and brown and _both_ girls to spend less time hating themselves and more time accepting and loving themselves, then I'm going to take the two-to-four hours their mamas give me for their appointments and make sure they know beauty is more than the straightness and length of their hair or the lightness of their skin, okay?"

Mercedes bit her lip and stared at her reflection thinking about the shirt she'd worn for their "Born This Way" performance. Kurt had asked her what it'd meant and she'd laughingly brushed it off by reminding him she hadn't been born with a weave, but he hadn't quite understood her point and she didn't quite have the energy to explain it to him. And while she had taken some steps by doing "The Big Chop" with her processed hair during the summer, the weave had remained.

"I want it out."

Miss Renée grinned at her slightly through the mirror. "_Repite, por favor_."

"I'd like my weave out. If you have time this weekend—"

"Honey, I'll do it right now _y gratis_!"

Miss Renée led Mercedes to the shampoo bowl and gave Santana some instructions in Spanish. Celia Cruz filled the salon space a few moments later and Miss Renée did a salsa step.

"I call it my 'Negra y Orgulla' mix," she explained, drawing Santana to her and twirling the former cheerleader under her arm. "Got me some Cruz, some Sweet Honey, some Billie, some Nina, some Toña la Negra—hell, I even got Christina Milian and Tatyana Ali up on there…_me encanta mucha_!"

Miss Renée sent Mercedes' mother a text about the impromptu appointment and Mercedes wasn't surprised when she arrived an hour later. By now, Miss Renée had taken out most of the tracks in her hair, but Mercedes couldn't quite look at herself in the mirror. Nevertheless, her mother immediately came over and wrapped her daughter in a hug, and Mercedes' bottom lip trembled.

"I love you _so, so_ much, baby girl, okay?" Mrs. Jones said, pulling back and kissing her daughter's cheeks. Mercedes hadn't cried yet; but she was getting closer and closer to the edge.

"I told your mother what had happened," Miss Renée said. "Not being surprised something has happened doesn't mean you can't be upset or hurt by it. Owning that emotion is half the battle, when you think about it."

Yet, they didn't dwell on it. Mrs. Jones and Miss Renée told stories about their own Afros back in the day, and then their Jheri curls, which made Santana and Mercedes sing the Soul Glo commercial from Eddie Murphy's _Coming to America_ with unadulterated glee. While Mercedes was under the dryer, her mother and Santana went to pick up a pizza for dinner and they ate and chatted while waiting for Mercedes hair to dry. Thirty minutes later, their bellies were full and Mercedes' hair was done.

"Ready for the reveal?" Miss Renée asked kindly.

Mercedes clutched her mother's hand. "Yeah."

It wasn't long, nor had she expected it to be, and the lack of hair made her appear older, like a college student; but the image reflected back at her was still foreign to her. It looked like a sable halo about her head; and when she sank her fingers into it, the tight coils were so soft underneath her fingertips. She nibbled on her bottom lip and frowned.

"You look _amazing_!" Miss Renée gushed. "Yes, I'm a little biased, but _Mercedes_…"

Her mother kissed her temple. "You look beautiful."

At that, the dam broke. Mercedes buried her face in her hands and sobbed. It didn't matter her mother was probably even more biased than Miss Renée was, yet Mercedes needed to hear that so badly. What was done couldn't be undone, at least right away; and she didn't want to regret such an impulsive decision. But Miss Renée had been right, even Mr. Schuester, in a way. It was time to stop hiding the things that made her different—she certainly couldn't hide her skin color or her weight, so she shouldn't hide her hair, either. This wasn't to say she'd never go back to a weave or relaxer; but if and when she did, it would be because she wanted to for _herself_, not to be accepted by folks who'd probably never like her no matter what she did.

"I'll get you a scarf to wear, though," Miss Renée said, patting Mercedes' shoulder. "It usually takes a while for girls to get used to the new look. "Ask your mother someday, Santana; when I went natural the summer after freshman year in college, I hid in my room the whole weekend and ate nothing but _patacones_ and _carimañolas_…mostly the _carimañolas_, though."

"_Mami's_ _carimañolas_ are _so good_—"

"Almost as good as your dad's _empanadillas_," Miss Renée said with a moan.

"Hmm, when we go up to New York for Thanksgiving, we should have both instead of turkey—"

"Um, _sobrina_, I'm having my turkey!" Miss Renée said emphatically. "Mama throws down in that kitchen, _lest we forget_!"

"Between Grandma and _Abuelita_, I don't think _Mami_ and _Papi_ will even get within ten feet of that kitchen!" Santana said on laugh.

"Can I come too?" Mercedes asked jokingly.

"Or at least bring some food back with you!" Mrs. Jones added.

"You gonna save some of Mama Jones's macaroni and cheese for me?" Miss Renée bartered.

"I got you, girl!" Mrs. Jones said, and the two women slapped hands and laughed. "I'll even add my daddy's collard greens!"

Mercedes' stomach growled even though it was full of the cheese pizza slice she'd eaten, and everyone fell out with even more laughter.

When it was time to leave, Miss Renée gave Mercedes a large hug and a kiss on each cheek, then looked both her and her niece in the eyes.

"Do _not_ give into the satisfaction of slapping the ignorance out of those girls tomorrow, okay?" Miss Renée warned. "You just do you and never break your stride; that's the best vengeance there ever is."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Mrs. Jones said, and hugged Santana and Miss Renée before ushering herself and her daughter out of the salon.

Mercedes drove in front of her mother but parked on the street so her mother could have a space in the driveway. She waited for her daughter to approach, then linked their arms together and came through the side door. Mercedes abruptly stopped and her hands flew to her head when she saw not only her father on the couch waiting, but Sam as well. Both had had serious expressions on their face before finally noticing the women.

"Uh…" Mr. Jones started, standing slowly. "Mercedes?"

Her father didn't seem pleased and Mercedes started to step back, but her mother stopped her progress.

"Doesn't she look _beautiful_?" Mrs. Jones stressed.

"I…I'm just…did you talk about this before—?"

"You don't like it," Mercedes said flatly, taking in a shuddering breath.

"It's not that simple—"

"It should be," Mercedes said more harshly than intended.

Her father's stance straightened. "You watch your mouth, Mercedes—!"

"I have to watch my _mouth_, I have to watch my _hair_, I have to watch my _weight_; I have to watch my _skin_! Watch everything to make sure my mere _presence_ doesn't offend _delicate sensibilities_!" Mercedes ground out, throwing her book bag against the back of the loveseat. "I'm tired! You know what happened to me today? I got called a _nigger_ because a poster child for the 'Aryan race' decided he wanted to be with _me_ and these little white girls couldn't handle it! And instead of beating her face in like I wanted, I had to walk away. _I had to walk away_! And _then_ I went and chopped off my hair, like a big ol' 'screw you!' to everything—do you know this is the first time in almost eight years I've seen my natural hair, Daddy? I cried! _I cried_! I cried because Mama said I was beautiful. And Miss Renée, and Santana. They said I was _beautiful_! And I come in and you like you've seen something beyond repulsive—!"

"Mercedes," her mother interrupted quietly, but Mercedes just shook her head and ran by them up the stairs to her room. Once there, she changed into her nightclothes and buried herself under the covers, wondering if she could sleep everything away.

It wasn't long before a knock sounded on the door, but she ignored it. It was her parents' house; they could go anywhere they pleased, after all. That didn't mean she had to make it easy on them, so she turned her back to the door and hugged the pillow to her face when the door opened. The bed dipped from the extra weight, but the touch on her hip was anything but parental.

"Pam Grier's got nothin' on you, lady."

She let out a watery laugh and turned to face Sam. He lay on his side and used the hand he'd placed on her hip to wipe away her tears.

"Poster child for the Aryan race, eh?"

Mercedes snorted and shrugged. "You and Quinn are two of the whitest people I've ever met in my life."

"And you love us both dearly," Sam reminded her, cupping her cheek.

"I do," Mercedes admitted on a shuddering breath. "God, I remember accusing Quinn of not knowing what Funk was…and she still really didn't, but that was okay, because she knew what hurt was. She knew what mean whispers and ostracism were because of her pregnancy. And that was how we became close. But damn, Sam, does it require mutual suffering for people to feel empathy for each other?"

"That rhymed, you know," Sam said with a grin.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I can't with you right now…"

"Okay, serious time," Sam promised, and the grin faded. "I don't know what it's like to be black, and I never will. But the next time something like this happens—your father has guaranteed there will be—don't shut me out, okay? You blew right passed me today; I had to find out from Lauren and Tina—and I didn't know where you were; you wouldn't answer your texts…"

Mercedes had noticed the twelve messages from Sam but hadn't even begun to know how to answer them, so she'd ignored them.

"I'm sorry," Mercedes said, breathing out slowly. "I'm not telling you every time it happens."

"Why not?"

"I don't want discussions of racism to dominate our relationship, quite frankly," Mercedes said, and nodded at his incredulous expression. "It's like walking on thumbtacks barefoot—eventually you build calluses, but every now and again you get a particularly sharp tack."

"But—"

"You being here, loving me, _that_ is what I need, okay?" Mercedes said, kissing his lips. "Nothing more than that, boo."

Sam nodded and kissed her forehead. "Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"

She snuggled into him. "Please."

The next morning, her father was waiting for her in the kitchen, much to her surprise. Mercedes tugged on the scarf she'd tied on her hair and self-consciously checked to make sure the ends were still tucked into their knot.

"Dad," she muttered, grabbing a granola bar. She wasn't very hungry.

"You didn't look like my baby girl anymore, Mercedes," her father said in response.

Mercedes flicked her eyes to him as she unwrapped her bar. "I haven't been a baby for a long time, Dad."

"I know," he replied on a sigh. "But you looked so grown…and when you get your confidence, you'll knock everyone's socks off."

Mercedes huffed but bit her lip to hide her smile. "Dad…"

"And there'll be people who won't like it…might even cost you a job or two," Mr. Jones said seriously, "but every no is just a sign to point you in your right direction." He came closer and squeezed her shoulder. "Just make sure that direction is always to love, okay?"

She nodded and stared at her bar as she ate, knowing if she looked at her father, she'd burst into tears.

"And that speech you gave, Mercedes?" Mr. Jones continued, his voice now growing rough. "I hate that you experienced that, but what I hate the most is I couldn't do anything to prevent you from experiencing it—"

"Daddy—"

"No, I'm serious," her father continued, squeezing her shoulder again. "I was born after the '60s, yeah, but I was raised by a Depression-era Grandma and a mama who was two years old when Rosa Parks's feet finally got too tired to stand anymore. My brother was in the Black Panthers for a minute and I'm sure my daddy has a longer rap sheet than 50 Cent because of all his sit-ins and marches! All the time I was growing up, I was told it would be different for us; and that's true in many ways, but not in the real ways that matter. And then here you and your friends are, being told it would be different for you, and yet you're still called a word that has got to be among the most vile of any language. _And I can't protect you from it_, no matter how good and fair I raise you to be."

"Daddy," she whispered, hugging him tight about the waist. He returned the embrace fiercely.

"There's no greater feeling of failure than thinking you let your kids down, Mercedes, and I'm sorry your mother and I couldn't do enough in this world to make it right for you."

"You're the best parents anyone could want," Mercedes assured him.

"I'mma take that lie to my grave," Mr. Jones joked, kissing the top of her wrapped head.

Yesterday's incident was already all over the school, to Mercedes' complete expectation. Santana had asked for a ride to school to avoid taking the bus, so Mercedes swung by to get her. Jacob was there with a microphone in hand as soon as they entered the school; Mercedes glared while Santana literally snarled. Everyone else gave them a wide berth.

"Maybe I should reinstate the Bully Whips," Santana muttered as they walked, Mercedes holding onto her tightly so she wouldn't break free and tackle the whisperers around them. "And then protect myself."

"I'd join," Mercedes said. "I could definitely work a beret."

"When Kurt had said he didn't need us at the beginning of the year, I let it drop…who knows how many other kids are being bullied because of something or another?"

"Then we'd have to protect everybody from everyone," Mercedes said on a sigh.

"Eh, what's so hard about that?" Santana asked, smirking at her.

As they approached their lockers, they noticed the entire glee club hovering around them. Santana paused, almost as if she wanted to go in the opposite direction, but Mercedes tugged her along.

"That's our United Colors of Benetton family, and you can't run away from it."

"All this love is making me break out in hives," Santana groused, but that didn't stop her from catching Brittany's exuberant hug with a fierce one of her own. Kurt tried to one up Brittany, to the point Mercedes had to falter back a few steps to keep her balance, but she appreciated her best friend's hug nonetheless.

"I love you, Mercedes," he whispered softly.

"Oh, boo, you know you're my heart," Mercedes promised. Once Kurt deigned to let her go, she immediately went to Lauren and slapped her hand.

"You didn't send anyone to the hospital, did you?" Mercedes asked.

"Quinn talked me out of it," she said with a small glower.

"Well, I figured we should wait until you and 'Tana got back," Quinn said, hooking her arms through Mercedes' and Santana's. "Only fair."

"We thought _Fondue for Two_ would be a better forum anyway," Tina added.

"Yes. Lord Tubbington has some words he'd like to share," Brittany concluded.

Rachel and the other guys were talking amongst themselves, and Mercedes arched an eyebrow. "What is she up to?"

"I think she's trying to start a march?" Tina suggested, rolling her eyes. "The BSU wasn't enraged enough for her tastes so she's outsourcing—"

"We cannot let that word stand!" Rachel said shrilly, whirling around and punching a fist in the air. "We shall overcome someday!"

Everyone groaned loudly, but Mercedes hugged Rachel while she did.

* * *

><p>Patacones: .orgwiki/Tostones

Carimañola: .org/wiki/Carimañola

Empanadillas: .org/wiki/Empanadilla


	23. Family Ties

**Title:** Family Ties  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club, Evans Family  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> It's good to be home, but Sam learns something about his family that isn't good.  
><strong>Author Notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sam pulled Mercedes into a tight hug, his lips pressed against crocheted cap atop her head. She smelled of coconuts from the oil she used in her hair and her own unique scent, and it made him hungry for something other than his grandma's cooking awaiting him in Tennessee.<p>

They were at curb in front of his airport terminal in Columbus, the Jones family having offered to drop him off there since they were on their way to Arkansas anyway to for Thanksgiving with her grandparents as well. Sam was flying directly into Memphis since his parents would already be there for their own Thanksgiving celebration, and he and Mercedes had spent the better part of the past two weeks trying to figure out how to meet up during their brief break. In fact, the only reason Sam wasn't riding down with the Jones family outright was because his ticket had been bought months in advance.

"I wish we could spend Thanksgiving together," Sam admitted, rubbing her back with his wide palms.

"Thanksgiving is for family, and you've been without yours for a while, boo," she reminded him.

_You're part of my family_, he wanted to say, but just kissed the top of her head again instead.

"But, seriously, you think they'd go for it?" Mercedes asked after a moment.

Mercedes and Sam had each been enticing their parents for a night on the town on Beale Street Friday night. Where Mercedes' family was in Arkansas wasn't far from Memphis; it could definitely be done.

"I hope so," Sam said, pulling back to look into her gorgeous brown eyes. He grinned and she returned it. "I think they should get to know each other more, don't you?"

Mercedes chuckled nervously and looked behind her where her brother, who was definitely an adult considering he was twenty, pulled silly faces at them through the window. Sam laughed.

"We better go. We still have hours and the sky jocks are giving us the evil eye from taking up a prime unloading space."

Sam didn't care about that and kissed her nose. "We'll see each other, lady."

"Yes."

"I'll call when I arrive."

"Please," she said, hugging him close again. "And do _not_ eat all of Stacy's and Stevie's cookies! You know they'll tell me if you did!"

He'd put those cookies deep in his carryon for a reason; Stevie would never let him hear the end of it if those cookies didn't make it to Memphis.

Uncaring her family was watching them avidly from their SUV, Sam pressed a soft kiss to Mercedes' lips and cheered when she didn't pull away.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Sam."

He remained on the curb until the Jones family pulled off with a honk and didn't stop waving until the SUV was out of sight. Despite the craziness of Thanksgiving travel, Sam's experience getting through security was relatively easy. He still had hours to go before his flight took off, but he didn't mind. He had his mp3 player and _Boondocks: Because I Know You Don't Read the Newspaper_ by Aaron McGruder, given to him by Micah so he could "educate himself". Mercedes had tried to get Sam not to take it, but Sam accepted the loan in good faith.

"Some of the jokes you won't get, but that's okay," Micah had said once the exchange had been made. "And if you lose or mar this book in any way, unpleasantness will descend upon you."

"Stop threatening my boyfriend," Mercedes had snapped, resting against the window with her eyes closed. She'd flipped her brother off when Micah had stuck his tongue out her, but the grin she'd sported dulled whatever sting could've been made.

"I don't know how you put up with her," Micah had teased. "Bossy lil' thang, always has been."

"She kinda grew on me, I dunno," Sam had teased back, yelping slightly when Mercedes kicked his seat from where he was sitting on the second row. She and her brother had taken up the back row.

Sam could tell Micah was trying to get used to the fact his baby sister had a real boyfriend, and a white one at that, but Sam liked him. He knew he'd be the same way when Stacy started dating.

_Which would be never._

Sam smirked to himself and got as comfortable as he could in the tiny terminal chairs. His personal bag of cookies was in his lap and he nibbled on one as he turned on his mp3 player and started reading the comic. It was different from the traditional one, far more political and sometimes uncomfortably so, but he did catch himself chuckling every now and again. He figured he should "educate" himself more on this, especially with what had been going on at McKinley ever since "The Incident".

For example, it'd taken Mercedes almost a whole week to let go of her scarf and expose her cut. Sam and Santana had flanked her as they walked through the halls, shielding her as best they could from the stares and snickers. Quinn had hugged her tight and gushed while Puck and Finn had almost gotten their hands ripped off when they'd tried to touch her hair.

"I've told Puck but I'mma tell you, Finn," Mercedes had said while bending back their thumbs. "Don't you ever in your life try to touch a black woman's hair without her permission!"

"Yes! We won't!" they'd assured her frantically, and Finn had collapsed against the lockers once she'd freed them while Puck tried to find solace in Lauren's bosom. This was all ridiculously funny when seconds later, Kurt bounded up and immediately caressed her short, curly cut.

"Hey!" they'd exclaimed, indignant.

"Immunity," Kurt had said simply. "And I _love it_! Miss Renée is a goddess!"

"Oh, goodness, now I'm obligated to tell her that," Santana had groaned good-naturedly.

"Well, I love it," Rachel had said, linking her arm through Mercedes'. "My aunt Thelma has he hair like that, but a little longer, and when I was younger I would ask my dad why my hair can't do like Aunt Thelma's…then again, I'd also asked why his and her tans lasted longer than mine's but that's a whole other story—"

"When did you have that conversation? _Yesterday_?" Santana had snarked.

"You are not funny," Rachel had insisted.

"_Hilarious_!" Santana had disagreed, her eyes narrowing. "And if you mention a pole again, I'll shove one up your—"

Mercedes and Quinn had slapped their hands over Santana's mouth, Lauren whining for Santana to finish what she said so she could see a good girl fight.

"I was cheated out of one the last time and I'm feenin'," Lauren had said with a pout.

Mr. Schuester had tried to talk about what had happened, but both Santana and Mercedes had shaken their heads and insisted they focus on their set list for Sectionals. And when Mr. Schue had started to suggest the Boys v. Girls Showdown for that week, Tina and Artie had requested they push it back until after Sectionals so they could be as prepared as possible.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd prefer an out-and-out win this year, for once," Artie had said.

"Exactly," Tina had added. "We can throw down later!"

With the rehearsals, standardized testing, and college applications going on, many days Sam didn't know what was up from down; but he kept his eyes on Mercedes and noticed her shrinking a little whenever she walked the halls, especially if he weren't with her. She'd try to make herself small, invisible, which was the complete opposite of how he thought she should be. He hadn't heard or seen anything that would make her do that; yet he didn't know how to approach her about it, and didn't have time to do so, either, since the Thanksgiving holiday had been looming. That was why he was so adamant they find a time to get together in Memphis, on more neutral and comfortable territory of "home"towns and Southern comfort foods.

The first person to greet him upon touching down in Memphis was Stacy, who all but launched herself into his arms. The tears that sprang into his eyes at the sight of her took him aback, but he clung to her almost as tightly as she clung to him.

"I've missed you, Sammy," she whispered.

"You, too, honey," Sam said, kissing Stacy's temple for a long, sweet moment.

Stevie's hug was just as hard, except his immediate question after greeting Sam was about Mercedes' cookies. Finally his parents hugged him, Sam giving a particularly long one to his mother, and his father ruffled his hair affectionately. They all looked healthy and far more content than they'd ever had last year, and Sam's heart became light.

"I love y'all," he declared.

"Oh, Sam," his mother whispered, pulling him into another hug. "We love you too."

It took a while for them to leave the parking garage because Stacy and their mom fought over the fact she couldn't sit in Sam's lap on the way to Grammy and Grappy's house. She did get the middle seat and snuggled into him instead, and Sam's face didn't lose its smile the entire ride there. The family was staying in the home, which meant he'd have to sleep on the pullout couch downstairs, but he didn't mind. As much as he was happy to be in Lima with his friends, he'd missed his family like crazy.

The house smelled like Thanksgiving upon entering it, and his paternal grandparents greeted him with large smile, laughs, and hugs. Sam had to lean low so his Grammy could kiss his cheeks while his Grappy, though slightly stooped with old age, still seemed to tower over him even though they were practically the same height.

"You look good, Sammy!" Grappy said, slapping his shoulder. Sam winced; Grappy still had the strength of several bulls, it seemed.

"So do you, Grappy!" Sam said, hugging his grandfather nevertheless.

"We Evans have some good genes, don't we, boy?" Grappy asked, winking at Sam's father who sighed with amusement.

"Dad…"

Sam pulled out the cookie tin and Stevie and Stacy attacked it at once. His grandparents looked at them in confusion while his parents laughed.

"He's been talking about these cookies since they got into the house," Grammy said on a chuckle. "And Stacy's been talking about this Mercedes person? A new friend in that singing group of yours?"

"She's not 'new'," Sam said, gasping slightly as he pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Mike saying he'd made it to Memphis before dialing Mercedes. "She was always in the group. I have to call her; her family gave me a ride to the airport."

"Oh, yes, let them know you made it safely!" Grammy said, squeezing his bicep as he handed him a mug of hot apple cider. He barely said hello to Mercedes before Stacy snatched the phone from his ear and began chattering a million miles a minute. Sam rolled his eyes but let his sister have at it, moseying into the kitchen to see if there was anything he could do to help.

"Sit and relax," his mother said, pulling out a chair at the breakfast table. "You do look good, Sam. You look happy."

"The only way I could be happier is if y'all were with me," Sam said, kissing his mother's forehead.

"And Quinn, how's she?" Grammy asked. "Such a pretty girl. I bet she was glad you decided to stay, huh?"

Sam chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, Grammy, she was; but we're not dating anymore—just really good friends now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that; but don't give up! She'll come around," Grammy encouraged.

"I think she's interested in someone else, which is great because he's an awesome guy," Sam said. "And I'm with someone else too."

"Oh, who?" Grammy asked, spinning around and clapping her hands, of which one was still holding a spatula. "Do you have a picture?"

"On my phone," Sam said, nodding his head to where his sister was still talking away.

"It's that Mercedes gal, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, his smile automatic and wide. "She's actually in Forrest City! That's where her parents are from. We wanted to see if our families could meet up—can we? Please?"

His father laughed and patted his shoulder. "Didn't you just see her today?"

"I know…"

"What's she like?" Grappy asked even as he nudged his son with his elbow. "Sammy sounds an awful lot like you did a long time ago—!"

"What do you mean 'a long time ago'?" Grammy asked with mock confusion. "He _still _sounds that way!"

Sam laughed at his mother's blush and his father's unapologetic preening as he hugged his wife from behind and kissed her temple.

"Mercedes would babysit for us," his mother explained. "Started a traditional cookie night even. If Sam hadn't seen her first, I think Stevie would be asking her to marry him!"

"He'll have to settle for her being his sister-in-law instead," Sam said.

"Oh, you!" Grammy gently chastised, whipping the hand towel in his direction. "At least you're quicker about it than your father. We knew he was in love with your mother for years!"

"I figured it out eventually!" his father called in his defense, and his mother laughed, kissing his jaw. Sam grinned down into his lap, more amused than embarrassed by his parents.

Stevie ran into the kitchen with Sam's phone held out in front of him.

"You wanna talk to Mercedes?"

Sam scoffed at him for asking such a silly question and took the phone. "Hey, lady."

"Hey, Sam! I'm glad to hear the cookies made it!"

"It was touch and go for a while, but they managed to pull through!" Sam teased.

Mercedes laughed and sighed. "All right, we still have a few hours to go, and it'll be late when we pull in so I'll text you, okay?"

"All right. Safe travels, Mercedes."

"Thanks. Bye!"

"Bye," he said, ending the call. Not even five seconds later he got a text from Mercedes.

_I love you!_

He grinned more and texted the same in reply.

"Care to show us that picture now, Sammy boy?" his grandmother asked.

Sam's smile widened and he nodded, flipping through his phone's photo album to find a really good one. He settled on their homecoming photo and gave the phone to his Grappy. Eyebrows shot up foreheads, making him raise his own eyebrow, but then he snapped and asked for the phone back.

"I have video!" he said excitedly, then flipped to one of their glee club rehearsals and played one where Mercedes and Artie were singing _The Jeffersons_ theme song after Santana had called her Wheezy yet again. Santana had eventually joined in, and then Artie started doing an old rap by Nelly called "Batter Up".

"Actually, it's the St. Lunatics featuring Nelly, but that was Nelly's crew so whatever," Artie had explained when Sam had wanted to download the song for himself. It was on his mp3 player now and had, as of yet, avoided the dreaded "Skip" button.

"She's certainly talented," Grappy said, especially when his siblings rushed into the room to watch the video with them.

"You have more of Mercedes singing, Sammy?" Stacy asked.

"No, I had to delete the others to make space for my SAT prep videos."

"Didn't you take the test already?" his mother asked.

"Yeah…just in case, though…"

"Have more faith in yourself," Grammy said, clucking her tongue. "You're a smart boy—"

"Book learnin' ain't the only learnin' that matters, son," his Grappy added, letting Stacy take control of the cell phone again.

The conversation shifted from Mercedes and himself as his siblings showed him much of what they'd been doing that year in school. His mother and grandmother wouldn't let him help in the kitchen, either…or rather, help himself to some of the food being prepared.

"Aw! No love, Grammy?" he asked, kissing her temple.

"I can love you and say no to you, Samson Evans," Grammy chastised, but accepted his kiss all the same.

"Mercedes says the same thing—"

"Good!" his mother exclaimed, nodding her head emphatically. "I knew there was a reason I liked her."

"_Mo-om_!"

"It's a feat to be sure," his mother insisted, squeezing Sam's chin maternally. "So hard to say no to such an adorable face!"

"Mama!"

Laughing, his mother kissed a corner of his mouth and winked before going back to her task.

"So you think she loves you?" Grammy asked, her tone deceptively light.

Sam nodded. "Weren't you just saying an hour ago how much like Dad I sounded?"

"Yes, but who's to say she feels the same? You sounded much more excited when you were with that Quinn girl. She was so pretty, too; good Christian girl."

"I go to church with Mercedes sometimes," Sam said.

His Grammy dropped the spoon she'd been using to stir her pot. "Really? You still can't go to Quinn's church?"

"Quinn goes with me to Mercedes' church sometimes. Quinn stayed with Mercedes when she was pregnant."

Grammy whirled around at that. "She was _pregnant_?"

"Yes," Sam said, his jaw grown tight, refusing to say anything more about the matter. Grammy picked upon this, for she let the discussion drop.

Of all things they had pizza for dinner that night since most of the food was for Thanksgiving the next day. His siblings demanded he tuck them in, and he climbed into the bed they shared and sung them a lullaby to sleep. When he went back to the living area, his parents and grandparents were up watching television, so he sat next to his mother and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Out like lights are they?" she asked, combing her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah."

"I love you, Sammy boy," she said, dropping a kiss against his forehead.

"I love you, too, Mama," he said.

"You really look good. And the Changs love having you there," his father said. "Your grades are much more improved over last year too."

"I live with a Brainiac; that helps!" Sam said on a laugh. The rest laughed with him.

"When do you get your SAT scores back?"

"Actually any day now online," Sam said, shuddering. "I'd rather not look at them until after tomorrow…"

"You did fine," his father said with a nod. "I know it. Between Mike and Mercedes and the rest of the club, I'm sure you aced it."

Sam shrugged but couldn't deny the little ball of hope glowing in his gut. Mercedes had prayed with him and given him a wonderful pep talk and kiss to the cheek before they'd taken the test. Afterwards, he, she, Mike, Finn, Artie, and Lauren had all gone to lunch and jokingly bemoaned the fact they were never getting into college.

"I'm not taking it again," Mercedes had announced.

"Yeah, you are," Lauren had said with a snort. "We have the SAT IIs, remember?"

"I don't," Sam had declared. "The Is are quite enough, thank you!" Finn had slapped his hand in agreement, for he wasn't taking the SAT IIs, either.

"But football recruiting? Any offers yet?" Grappy asked, bringing Sam back to the present.

Sam shrugged. There certainly hadn't been many college coaches coming to McKinley, but that didn't mean Coach Beiste hadn't been sending out tape. McKinley had never been on the college radar because its squad had been so bad; but if they could get another championship, maybe a few colleges would be interested…maybe enough to offer some scholarships.

He could really use some.

"Tennessee wants you," Grappy said.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not good enough to get a scholarship to Tennessee, Grappy."

"Pft," Grappy intoned. "Tell your coach to send your tape to Knoxville. I'm sure you'll get some offers!"

"They focus more on Ohio schools—"

"I'll be damned if you're a Buckeye, boy!" Grappy said and harrumphed. Sam shook his head fondly. "SEC conference is the best in the country! Play in Knoxville, son! Grappy ever steer you wrong?"

"No, Grappy, never."

"Good. Tennessee…"

Talk of football waned in favor of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and food the next morning. His sister had jumped on him that morning to wake him up, almost crushing the cell phone that had been resting on his chest after late-night texting sessions with Mike & Mercedes. Upon checking the condition of his device, Sam smiled at all of the "Happy Thanksgiving!" texts he'd received.

Stacy settled in his lap while Stevie leaned heavily against his side as they finished watching the parade. Just before Santa made his appearance, his mother called for them to set the table, so Sam volunteered to do it by himself so his siblings could watch the man of the hour. His mouth watered at the sight of fluffy, homemade buttermilk biscuits, a great bowl of cheese grits, two platters full of sausage and breakfast chicken patties, and two carafes of orange juice and a pitcher of water.

"Stop droolin' over the food, boy!" his Grappy teased with a strong clap to the back.

Sam laughed and hugged his grandfather. "Smells and looks so good! Can't wait!" And his stomach growled on that cue, making everyone laugh.

It was the perfect lazy day outside of the kitchen's hubbub full of eating and fellowshipping, and his favorite (and only) uncle and his partner arrived about an hour before the meal was to begin. Seth Evans almost looked identical to Sam's father despite the five years his dad had on him, and his partner was a lanky redhead who indulged Sam in "Impression Battles". Stevie and Stacy had immediately started cheering at their appearance, unable to wait for the next battle that would no doubt start around the dinner table.

"It's nice to see you again, Samson," Paul, Seth's partner, said in Megatron's voice.

"I wish I could say the same, but that would be a lie," Sam returned with a Darth Vader impression. His siblings squealed and demanded more.

"Couldn't wait to get to the table this time, eh?" Seth asked, hugging his eldest nephew.

"That was just the warm up!" Sam said, slapping Paul's hand in greeting.

Thanksgiving meal started off wonderfully. Grammy made everyone say what they were grateful for, and there were few dry eyes when his mother explained how grateful she was to God for allowing their family to find their footing again, even if it meant some temporary separation. When it was his turn, Sam was surprised by how tight his throat had become and had to settle on saying he was grateful for having the best family and friends a person could ever want.

Stevie was last, and he was even more succinct than Sam—"Family, friends, and Mercedes' cookies!"

Stacy squealed with laughter and Sam rolled his eyes, nudging his brother with his elbow.

Grappy nodded seriously. "They're really quite good."

"Are they for dessert?" Paul asked.

"I managed to hide a few," Sam's mother replied. "We'll make sure you two get some!"

"Cookies and Mama's sweet potato pie! Can we just skip the meal and—?"

"You're not funny, Seth," Grammy said, eyeing her youngest child as she started passing dishes around.

"Who is Mercedes?" Paul asked, rubbing his partner's back at his mock pout.

"Sammy's _girlfriend_!" Stacy said with a smirk.

"What happened to Quinn?" Seth asked.

"We broke up but we're still very close," Sam said.

"Oh, that's unfortunate; I thought she was really pretty," Paul said.

"Don't be; we work better as platonic," Sam insisted. "We were both in a place last year, but we're better now."

"It's the cookies," Stevie said sagely.

Seth arched an eyebrow. "I hope he means _actual_ cookies, nephew."

Sam rolled his eyes again, not even about to respond to that.

"Well, this girl looks nothing like Quinn," Grammy said, taking the piece of turkey her husband had just carved for her. "She can sing, though; I'll give her that."

"And bake," Grappy said distractedly, trying to saw off the turkey leg for Stevie.

"Singing and baking—I think you've found a winner, Sammy!" his grandmother said on a chuckle as she spooned the green bean casserole onto her plate.

Something about his grandmother's tone rubbed Sam the wrong way, and he flicked his eyes to his father, who gave an imperceptible shake of his head. Sam took the cue and held his tongue.

"Mercedes sings me lullabies," Stacy announced. "Sometimes after I talk to Sam I call her so she can sing me to sleep."

Sam's eyes widened. "I didn't know that!"

Stacy nodded excitedly. "Yeah, especially when you first moved back to Ohio; she called me to see if I was okay and we'd talk and then she'd sing me to sleep. She made sure Mama was there so someone could hang up the phone."

He looked to his mother, who gave a small smile and shrug of her shoulders. Sam could feel a dopey grin forming but he didn't care. His lady was amazing.

"That's nice of her," Grammy said absently. "Is she trying to be a singer when she graduates?"

"I think it would be amazing if she were," Sam said. "She's so good—I get chills every time she sings."

"Hey, when's your next concert? Maybe we'll come hear you perform," Seth offered.

"In a week!" Sam said with a slight shiver as he thought about Sectionals. "Real nervous but real excited. I think we can take Sectionals again…"

The conversation was light and happy for the rest of the dinner, a marked change from last year's strained gathering because of his father's move and subsequent job loss. His siblings lollygagged at the table when everyone was done, the meal making them drowsy, so Sam offered to put them into bed. He was on his way to the living room when he heard voices from the kitchen.

"If you think Sam didn't notice, then you're mistaken! I can't believe you!" his father said, his voice sharp like a knife's edge.

"I'm sure she's a nice girl—"

"Very nice!" his father continued. "Her entire family is! They threw us a going away party and everything! They're good people, Mama."

"But he can't _love_ her—"

"But he can love Quinn?" his father asked with a scoff. "Before you even realized what color Mercedes was, you were planning Sam's wedding—I know it! I saw your mind working, Mom, so don't deny it!"

"I won't," Grammy said, then sighed. "I just think this is a phase, like the one with that Santana girl."

"_That_…I'm not entirely sure what that was, but I'm glad it's over," his mother said this time. "They were obviously unsuited for each other—"

"And who's to say this Mercedes girl isn't?" Grammy asked. "Could you imagine Sam taking her to our church? And what if, goodness, they have kids?"

"Wow, really, Mom?" Seth asked, disappointment lacing his tone. "You have an openly gay son, remember?"

"You can't have children," Grammy said dismissively.

"But we can," Paul reminded her. "We could easily find a surrogate, and she could be a black woman, and you'd have black grandkids—"

The sound of a dish shattering made Sam jump and rush into the kitchen where his grandmother was crouched down to gather the remnants of the butter dish, brushing aside her sons' attempts to help. The other adults could barely look at him, but Sam just bent down to help his grandmother.

"Sam, I've got it—"

"No, you don't," Sam said gently but firmly, taking the shards from her and placing them in the dustpan his mother had gotten from the storage closet nearby. His grandmother's green eyes were watering and she sniffled slightly, shaking her head.

"I raised my children to be better than this," she said softly, nodding. "I did, I promise."

"I know, Grammy," he said, helping her to stand. "And they are."

"She's just…not what I _envisioned_ for you, that's all," Grammy whispered, patting Sam's wrist.

"I can be honest and say I didn't see her coming, either; but she's here, and I hope she stays for a very long time."

Grammy inhaled a shuddering breath. "You're just so young to be saying that…"

Sam bit his bottom lip and twisted his hands until his fingers interlocked with his grandmother's. He stared at them, feeling the eyes of everyone else upon him, but he needed to say what was in his heart.

"When I first knew my feelings for Mercedes were becoming serious, I'd asked Mike for advice. He'd been in a relationship with a wonderful girl for over a year, which is like eighty in glee club! But he said Tina affirms him and he affirms her, and they didn't let anyone else into their relationship. You think that's sound?"

"Very," Grappy said, and Sam quirked a smile.

"I and Mercedes had a really, really bad argument a few weeks back…really bad. But, despite the words that were said and the feelings that were hurt, the one thing I never doubted was her love for me, and I hope she didn't question my love for her. _That_ affirmation was something I'd never had with Quinn, despite my feelings for her, and that's how I know I'm not too young to say I want a future with Mercedes and mean it."

"Sam…"

He kissed his grandmother's hands. "I'm gonna tell Mercedes it's probably not a good idea for her family to come over because I don't want anyone uncomfortable during this holiday."

Grammy squeezed his hands. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He nodded, still unable to look into the eyes he'd inherited, and rubbed the back of his grandmother's hands with his thumbs. "I'm sorry, too, Grammy."


	24. No More Waiting

**Title:** No More Waiting  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 4725  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up through S2 of _Glee_.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> There comes a time when one stops waiting and starts doing.  
><strong>Author Notes:<strong> Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mercedes squeezed the deceptively strong fingers threaded through hers and took a deep breath, resting the back of her head against the lockers behind her. The sound of the McKinley jazz band rehearsing filtered into the hallways even with the auditorium doors closed, a subliminal reminder Sectionals was that Saturday. Most of the other kids had remained inside going over lyrics or dance moves on the stage, but Mercedes had needed some air and alone time.<p>

Kurt had come out when the break had passed and she hadn't reappeared. They didn't speak, Kurt choosing to practice his part in the duet he was doing with Santana and Mercedes content to fill in Santana's part to help him rehearse. Though Kurt didn't have the grit of the original soloist, he still sounded wonderful; Mercedes couldn't wait until they performed on stage in two days.

"It's going to be weird competing against Blaine," he said after they finished.

"Just like it was weird for us to compete against you, but then you joined back with us…"

"I didn't like it," Kurt admitted, squeezing her hand. "I missed our pep talk, and our little finger thing…"

"Yeah…"

"I missed our pre-performance hug too."

"You could've found me last year; I would've given it to you, boo."

"I missed sharing a stage with you," Kurt said. "I'd just missed _you_."

"I was always there, Kurt," Mercedes said, sounding tired. "But you needed space to get to know Blaine…"

"Yes, which is why we haven't been hanging out much? So you can get to know Sam?"

Mercedes sighed again and fidgeted a little, closing her eyes. "I didn't think you'd mind, considering you were with Blaine, and then Rachel and Finn."

"They're not you, though, Mercedes. None of them can ever replace who you are to me."

She grinned slightly when he kissed the back of her hand and placed it to his chest, and she nodded against the lockers.

"So, you need to tell this soul mate what the other soul mate did to make you sad."

Mercedes shook her head, really not in the mood to get into it, not when they had a major competition in less than forty-eight hours. It wasn't even Sam's fault; he couldn't help who his family was, after all. And it wasn't as if his grandmother had called her and her family coons or worse…

She just didn't want any brown babies in her family.

What made that revelation even worse was the fact one of her favorite uncles had decided to go all black militant on her about how dare she love a white boy and blah blah blah. And it wasn't with the same valid concerns her parents had, but it'd sounded flat-out like _hate_. It'd surprised her, scared her. She'd known not everyone would be thrilled, but never had she thought she might actually _lose_ loved ones because of it. Random people in the halls or on the streets who didn't like her and Sam together were one thing; possibly breaking apart families was another matter entirely.

Yet should she cut off people for a boy with whom she'd only been in a romantic relationship for six months? _Six months_ that had felt like sixty years in some ways and merely sixty minutes in others? She knew emotions were heightened in high school to ridiculous degrees; but even if there were no Sam (as frightening as that thought was), there could easily be another nonblack partner in her future, or a nonwhite partner for Sam in his, and they would still be in this familial predicament.

"It must've been really bad," Kurt said after a few moments of her silence. "Sam won't say anything to me, either."

"This is hard for him," Mercedes said, "finding out people aren't all who they've purported themselves to be."

"I understand that," Kurt said, he sighing this time. "Blaine's parents invited us to a Leftover Thanksgiving Friday night and it was one of the most awkward experiences of my life. My dad and Blaine's dad kept shooting each other evil eyes while our moms did their best to keep the 'forcing it' boat afloat. Then Finn decided to practice his drumming with their _real silver_ cutlery against their _real china_ dishes and I was beyond mortified, but then Blaine started singing to the beat and I almost died with the amount of love I felt for him. Both of them, actually."

"I love Finn. His heart tries to be in the right place, even if his execution needs work sometimes," Mercedes said with a grin, determined to give the tall quarterback a hug for watching her best friend's back.

"I just wish everyone would stop giving us grief about loving who we love," Kurt said a little sadly. "We're not hurting anyone, are we?"

"No," Mercedes said firmly, this time bringing Kurt's hand to her lips to kiss it. "If anything, you're an inspiration, Kurt." She shook her head again. "You and Blaine, Santana and Brittany. It takes a lot of courage to do what you are doing."

"I think it takes courage to be who you are regardless," Kurt said after a thoughtful second. "Especially in high school."

That was why the purely happenstance set list they'd agreed upon before all these incidents had started seemed so poignant now, to the point Mercedes almost didn't care where they placed because the message was beyond some silly show choir competition. "Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer and "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson held a far more visceral meaning to her now; and performing them with Kurt and Santana on lead for the former and Artie and Tina for the latter had brought tears to her eyes that had nothing to do with the raucous applause the audience had given them. It'd been Puck who'd rushed after her once they'd left the stage and held Mercedes as she cried into his chest, hiding out in the backstage bathroom.

"We did great, Mercedes; don't be sad," he consoled.

"I know," Mercedes said. "I'm just moved, that's all."

Another pair of arms came around her, and she looked back to see it was Rachel.

"I don't like it when you cry, Mercedes, so these better be happy tears," Rachel warned.

"They're 'I don't know what my emotions are doing' tears!" Mercedes said on a watery laugh.

"Yeah, mine too," Rachel said, and Mercedes heard her sniffle.

When they left the bathroom, the Warblers were just about to go on, but Blaine broke ranks to say how well they did and gave Mercedes a hug in particular.

"I saw you crying; are you okay?"

Mercedes now laughed embarrassedly. "I had a mini church moment, don't mind me!"

"Michael Jackson's good for that," Blaine said with a wink.

"Totally," Puck said with a nod.

"Be awesome up there! Only person who'll be cheering louder is Kurt!" Rachel encouraged.

Blaine blushed slightly and nodded. "Thanks you guys."

Yet as awesome as the Warblers were, New Directions managed to beat them and Jane Addams Academy outright this year. She shared joyous hugs with Quinn and Tina and laughed as Artie hoisted the trophy high above his head.

There was a celebratory dinner at an Olive Garden in town before they rode back to McKinley High, Santana boldly announcing it was a poor man's version of Breadstix where the servers were in complete earshot, but thankfully the rest of the meal passed without incident. The moment Mr. Schuester started gushing about Regionals, however, everyone immediately shushed him with loud groans.

"Let's just enjoy this win, yeah?" Lauren asked, high-fiving Brittany and fist-bumping Mike.

"Which was _epic_!" Finn exclaimed, and the table clapped and cheered.

Santana stood and bowed. "I would just like to thank my mother and father for giving me a _fabulous_ voice to go along with my _fabulous _body and for you all to have finally gained the intelligence to have me sing lead—"

"_Share_ a lead with me," Kurt corrected her. "Clearly I was the missing ingredient for you, because last year you sang a solo and tied with the Warblers—"

"Fine, _fine_," Santana said, rolling her eyes, "but I'm pretty sure it was Artie and Tina that gave us the edge."

They cheered again, a shy Tina hiding her face in Mike's chest while Quinn gave Artie a side hug. Soon it turned into a love-fest—from praising the band to describing the rush they'd felt while performing. Puck, who was sitting beside Mercedes, nudged her shoulder and winked at her, but didn't out her to the rest of the group for crying.

"Just can't believe this is our last Sectionals for some of us," Quinn murmured sadly.

Mercedes bent her head and felt the tears begin again, but she blinked rapidly and took a deep breath to stave them off. She felt an arm loop through hers and looked up to see Kurt smiling down at her, and she grinned, resting her head on his shoulder.

They sat together on the ride back to school, she and Kurt talking to Blaine via text. Quinn and Sam sat in the seat across from them and Mercedes occasionally glanced in their direction, but it was dark save for the glow from their various electronic devices, and she wasn't sure if they could see her. When Kurt put away his phone it startled her, especially when his blue eyes turned their laser focus on her.

"Yeah, boo?"

"You need to stop doing this."

"Doing what? Sitting next to you? Fine, then…"

She started to rise but strong fingers closed around her wrist. Kurt didn't even crack a smile, and Mercedes pouted a little.

"Bottling things up like you are," Kurt said.

Mercedes arched an eyebrow at him. "You're a fine one to talk, especially after last year!"

He darted his eyes away, properly chastened, but that didn't deter him for long. "What are you so afraid of? Sam loves you."

"He loves his family too," Mercedes said. "That's one of the reasons I fell so hard. He adores them…I don't want to be the cause of any strife between him and them."

"But you think you're not part of that family," Kurt said, "and you are. Remember what you told me a long time ago, when I was wrestling with coming out to my dad? There's the family chosen for you and the family you choose. Sam has _chosen_ you."

"God, you make it sound so final!" Mercedes said on a nervous laugh.

"But don't you want it to be?" Kurt asked, kissing her temple.

When they reached the school, their families were there cheering for them. Mercedes immediately went to her father's arms and let him snuggle her, needing his love very much right then.

"What's the matter, baby girl?" he asked against the top of her head.

"I love you, that's all," she replied.

While her parents tracked down everyone else to give their congrats, Mercedes used that moment to seek out Sam. He was laughing as Mike and Tina gave an exuberant retelling of events to their parents, but he turned and caught her eye when he felt her gaze. She smiled slightly and jerked her head to the side. He nodded and approached.

They could barely see each other in the dim light of the parking lot, but she didn't need much of it to know he stared. The pull of his eyes drew her against his chest, and she wrapped her arms about his waist.

"You're not mad at me anymore?"

"Oh, Sam…" She hugged him tighter. "I was never mad."

"I thought you were; you wouldn't talk to me after I told you about Thanksgiving, so I—"

"I was sad," Mercedes admitted. "Really sad we had to hear some things from people we loved, and I guess I was scared too."

"Of?"

Mercedes shook her head and snuggled deeper into him, needing his warmth and goodness around her. He squeezed her and pressed his lips to her temple.

"I love you, Mercedes."

She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes and down her cheeks. "I love you…so much, Sam. I know it's only been six months and we're young but I _really_ love you and I do _not_ want to come between you and your family!"

He kissed her temple again and tensed. "That's not up to you."

"You're not going to lose your family over me," Mercedes said firmly, that wave of tears over and her voice firming.

"It won't be over _you_, it'll be over their bigotry," Sam said. "You can't change your color; but they can change their minds, and they certainly should!"

"This is your grammy, Sam—"

"Who can accept her gay son and his boyfriend but not me and my black girlfriend?" Sam said with a very sharp edge. "And you're my heart, Mercedes," he said emphatically, cupping her cheek with a gloved hand. "And nobody hurts you if I can help it, even my family."

She shook her head and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine, for right now," Sam insisted. "We can talk about why you were crying instead."

Mercedes tucked her head underneath this chin. "We sounded amazing and the words touched me."

"You caught the spirit, didn't you?" Sam said with a little chuckle. "Like you do in church sometimes…"

Sam had all but started coming to church with them on the regular—Quinn too. Even Santana showed up more often with Miss Renée, and Puck still pinch-hit occasionally; only this time, Lauren would come when he did. It was lovely to see her friends come; it definitely helped make the congregation more diverse, and it seemed her pastor appreciated that fact as well.

She nodded, glad he couldn't see her embarrassed smile. "Maybe just a little bit."

"Kurt thought something was horribly wrong, but I told him Puck was handling it," Sam said. "He recognized it for what it was too."

She pulled back and arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that maturity I hear, Sam Evans?"

He shrugged with a crooked smile. "I can be mature. I just have to suck it up everyone will just be a little in love with you, Mercedes."

She rolled her eyes. "Exaggeration, much?"

His smile was tender and he kissed her all but frozen nose. "If only you could see you as I see you, lady…your milkshake really does bring all the boys to the yard…some girls too."

She burst out laughing at that. "Sam!"

"Brittany all but admitted it!"

"I think you have an ulterior motive with that one," Mercedes said with a smirk.

A cocky grin formed on his face. "The idea intrigues…"

Before leaving, Mercedes gave gigantic hugs to the heroes of the day, complete with smacking kisses to Kurt's and Artie's cheeks. She and Tina touched foreheads as they whispered to each other and Santana gave her a hip bump and said she'd see her at church.

"Wait, is this a voluntary thing?" Mercedes asked, darting her eyes to Miss Renée who shrugged.

"Er, sort of? I made my grandma a promise I'd go at least once a month so…"

"I don't sing this Sunday," Mercedes told her.

"Oh," Santana said, pulling a face. "I suppose that's all right; rather you in the congregation than up there anyway—"

"We'll come when you sing," Miss Renée said, and Santana rolled her eyes. "Maybe Santana could join the choir even!"

"_Hasta luego_, Mercedes!" Santana said, dragging her aunt away.

Thankfully, the New Directions' win at Sectionals helped pull Mercedes out of her down mood and she allowed the holiday spirit to lift her even more. Mr. Schue decided the Boys v. Girls Showdown would involve "Holiday Season" songs (this after Rachel and Puck spent twenty minutes arguing about how "Christmas" discriminates against the Jews and Kurt sticking up for the atheists). And instead of caroling around the school, which Mr. Schue even admitted hadn't gone so well, they'd perform in the mall and have a donation bucket a-la the Salvation Army. They all thought that was an even _worse_ idea than caroling around the school; but Mr. Schue vowed whoever raised the most money would get a dinner at Breadstix on him.

Santana was all for it then.

"I'm not doing a mashup of 'Holiday Season' songs, though," she said emphatically when they met the next afternoon in the choir room since the boys had football practice.

"No, that'll be too confusing," Rachel agreed. "We'll just stick to the basics—maybe some kids will see us and want to join glee because of this!"

"I don't really want anyone else to join," Quinn said. "We've final gelled as a group and I don't want to upset that." Several other girls nodded.

"But they should; because most of you are seniors and we'll need voices next year," Tina reminded them.

"I don't want to think about that," Rachel said primly, shaking her head. "We need to focus on Regionals, not worry about next year."

"Hey, you notice Mr. Schuester hasn't told us where Nationals is going to be this year?" Tina asked.

They all paused. He hadn't.

"That's probably a good thing. We need to keep our eyes on each step; I think sometimes it's good to see the trees in the forest," Brittany said with a nod.

Again, they all paused, letting the moment of Brittany dissecting an old adage correctly seep into their minds. Santana beamed and kissed Brittany's cheek, cuddling against her arm.

"_Mi novia es muy inteligente_," she boasted.

"_Gracias_, Santana," Brittany said with a smile and leaned her head against Santana's shoulder.

"That's ridiculously cute," Lauren said with a scowl. "Stop it, because now I want to hunt down Puckerman and lay one on him."

Santana winked and blew her a kiss.

The Thursday before they were to perform, Kurt and Mercedes were in her living room sewing the costumes. Mr. Schue, despite the debate about being more inclusive, had insisted they dress as Santa and the Helpers when they performed, and Lauren had immediately called the girls to dress as Santa.

"What I look like as an elf? C'mon!" Lauren said on a snort.

"Oh, and _I_ can get away with it?" Finn asked, rolling his eyes.

"You can be Rudolph, Finny D," Lauren said, winking at him. Finn pouted, but dibs were dibs and even he knew that.

"I so should've been a Santa," Kurt mused on a sigh, pulling a needle through one of the elf caps he was completing. "This green is just going to make me look pasty."

"You always look pasty, dear."

Kurt scowled at her. "Exactly! But I cannot wait to see Sam's face when he sees you in your outfit!"

Mercedes grinned and did a little shimmy with her shoulders. Kurt hadn't seen it on her, either, but knew how it looked because she'd spread out Tina's and got a gleam in his eye that had matched all the other girls' when, of all people, Rachel had sent out the image online. Kurt had returned the favor by showing her the sleeveless elf costumes they were wearing, Kurt not the most thrilled since he claimed to have the definition of spaghetti in his arms; but Mercedes assured him Blaine would be just as pleased if he could see it.

"You think so?" Kurt had asked, suddenly warming to the idea of donning the outfit.

"If he isn't, he has no taste," Mercedes had determined.

The smile that had split Kurt's face told her she had convinced him enough to be game.

Unfortunately, none of the boys in glee except Kurt were "game" for the outfits the girls were wearing. It wasn't even that risqué—just a halter-top A-line dress with faux white-fur piping and a skirt that reached below the knees, but the guys had all glowered at them as they sang Mariah Carey's "Oh, Santa!" in the middle of the mall, which was packed because it was two Saturdays before Christmas. Mercedes got a rush seeing little kids dance along with them, and the steady stream of people heading to their donation bucket cheered them up for sure.

The applause was deafening when they finished, and the girls gave each other bouncing hugs once they stepped off the stage.

"Wow, girls, you were fantastic!" Mr. Schue said, high-fiving them all. Kurt rushed to them and gave them hugs, ignoring Puck's shout of "Traitor!" following him. Mercedes looked at Sam and arched an eyebrow at his scowl. When he smirked, though, Mercedes gulped.

She, nor any of the other girls, knew "White Christmas" by The Drifters could be sung so raunchily; but between Puck's pelvic thrusts, Sam's swiveling hips, and Artie and Kurt on lead, one would think the Jonas Brothers had descended upon the mall. Mike even had the nerve to go into the audience and dance with an old lady, and Finn was so horribly uncoordinated it was endearing rather than embarrassing. The icing on the cake was Kurt's descant above the block sounding so sweet it made everyone swoon….especially Blaine, who clasped his hands over his heart and looked at his boyfriend with stars in his eyes.

"We're screwed," Santana said on a huff, and the rest of the girls nodded.

In the end, the boys had raised eighty dollars to their seventy, and they weren't going to let them forget about it, either.

"I think I'm going to start off with four breadsticks," Finn said as he counted their donation contribution again even though Mr. Schue had already declared them the winners. "Two for me, one for my lovely girlfriend Rachel, and one for Santana since she can't have any—"

Lauren caught Santana by the waist before she could attack.

"I'm going to get Auntie Ann's," Tina said forlornly. "Mercedes, come with me—?"

"Aren't you going to change?" Sam asked, eyeing their outfits.

"Kind of hard when we didn't bring a change of clothes," Tina said.

"All the important parts are covered, Sammy boy," Lauren reminded him.

Sam glared at Mercedes' décolletage and Mercedes placed her hands on her hips in warning. The rest had the good sense not to make a sound. "Let's go, Tina—"

Sam was upon her before she could get her next breath out, and his mouth prevented her from trying again. He wielded his tongue like a weapon, piercing all the erogenous zones in her mouth while holding her tightly against him. She would've struggled if she wanted to, but she appreciated a Sam Evans kiss, even when mad…even with an audience of rowdy, hormonal teenagers watching them. Her counterattack was softer: her fingers grazing his jaw, her little moans that never failed to get him going, her teeth grasping his bottom lip as she pulled away. His beautiful green eyes were glassy with lust, and she drifted her thumb over the small injury she'd created on his lip. He brushed his nose against hers and she quirked a smile

"Let's go, Tina," she said again, and pecked Sam's mouth once more for good measure before linking her arm through Tina's and walking away. Only when she made sure they were out of Sam's eyesight did she sag against Tina.

"I was about to say!" Tina said on a laugh, squeezing Mercedes' arm, "no way could I walk properly after a kiss like that!"

"If he had touched me anywhere else, there would've been another show entirely!" Mercedes cracked into Tina's shoulder, and they both slapped hands and laughed.

The line for Auntie Ann's was long as expected, but the girls used the time to talk about what stores they would hit up after this to finish their Christmas shopping. Mike celebrated the holiday even though he wasn't Christian ("The presents," Tina had explained) and Sam certainly did, and maybe Mercedes would find something for Stacy and Stevie too. They were two patrons from the front when they heard their names being called and spotted Sam and Mike approaching. Mercedes rolled her eyes and turned back to the counter, but squeezed Tina's arm for strength.

"We're buying you your pretzels," Mike said without preamble.

"We have our own money," Mercedes reminded them.

"So? We're still your boyfriends, and we have to make sure everyone else knows it too," Sam said, but Mercedes was distracted by the way his arm muscles flexed as she rifled through his wallet. Those sleeveless elf costumes they were wearing didn't make them look dorky in the slightest, as judged by the way several girls and women in the line were salivating over them. Tina even growled at one girl, who sucked her teeth and flipped her hair back as if she were unaffected. Mike wasn't, however, and he grinned at his girlfriend as he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"_He's_ her boyfriend?" Mercedes heard the one of two girls in front of them ask incredulously. "How'd she pull _that_ off?"

"How'd _she_ pull that off?" Sam repeated sharply and loudly, making most of the people around them stare at him. Mercedes shook her head, trying to head off the confrontation.

"Sam, don't—"

Sam held up a hand to her and shook his head. "That's the wrong question, because the _real_ question is how did _I_ pull this off and the answer is I don't know but I'm so glad I did! My lady is generous, kind, intelligent, beautiful, talented, and patient as heck to put with a lug like me; so don't ever insinuate she's not good enough for me when I can promise you it's definitely the opposite!"

Drowning in secondhand embarrassment, Mercedes looked at the counter, which was empty now and waiting for the two girls to step up, but they were distracted by Sam. So she urged Tina to go around them and make their order. Mike went with them, turning his head over his shoulder to keep an eye on Sam.

"He's not done, either," Mike muttered under his breath. "This won't end well for them."

"But he doesn't—"

Mike nodded. "He needs to do this, Mercedes." He then grinned a little. "You can't be the only one who fights for your relationship, after all."

"What?"

"You shield him," Mike said with a small frown. "And I get it, but it makes him think you think he can't handle being in a relationship with you when you protect him like that."

"_Protect_?"

"That's how it comes across to him," Mike said with a shrug, "and Sam's too old-fashioned to let you do all the protecting."

The cashier handed them their pretzels just as applause broke out behind them. The cashier winked at Mercedes and she hid her face behind the pretzel, grabbing Sam's hand as she passed him to drag him away from the line. Sam helped himself to a bit of her pretzel, but she didn't chastise him, especially when he linked his fingers through hers.

"Thank you," Mercedes murmured.

"For stealing some of your pretzel?" Sam asked on a laugh.

"For not being ashamed of me," she said.

He stopped walking. Mike and Tina pointed into one of the stores went inside so they could follow later. After a brief nod to them, he turned all of his attention to Mercedes.

"You are _the best_ thing that has ever happened to me, Mercedes Jones," Sam said emphatically. "I pray every night that I'm worthy of such a blessing to have you in my life; and if there are people who can't or won't understand it—even if they're my family—then they deserve to be schooled. But I won't have you thinking I'm too soft to handle what we might face or have you feel the need to downplay your hurt to protect me from mine. That's why _I'm_ here. I'm your Prince Charming, remember?"

Mercedes grinned, but shook her head and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. "You're my Samson Evans, and that's all I'll ever need you to be." She tugged him along into the shop where Mike and Tina were. "And we protect each other—never forget that!"


	25. Holiday Cheers

**Title:** Holiday Cheers  
><strong>Author: <strong>bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up through S2 of _Glee_.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam always did like the holidays - especially when Mercedes is with him.  
><strong>Author Notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy! And all my East Coast, USA readers, please stay safe from Hurricane Irene!

* * *

><p>Mercedes' Christmas gift to Sam was two parts. The first was a badly needed haircut, and the second was a book on constellations and their history.<p>

"I wanted to get you a telescope, but my parents were adamant that was too much money to spend when we don't know where we'll end up after this year," she explained when he opened the gift bag.

Sam kissed her apology away. "Hopefully with you…"

"I don't know; you'll probably get into some huge school with a kickass football program, Mr. 1875 on the SATs…"

In the grand scheme of things, his score was solidly average; but to Sam, it might as well had been a perfect score. He'd not thought he'd break into the thousands, but he had and more—his strongest section writing of all parts. The Changs had taken him and Mike out for a celebratory dinner just for them, and not even Mike's score of a 2250 could dampen Sam's sense of accomplishment.

Scouts had started coming to McKinley as well with a few interviews lined up after the holiday break. He even had one for the University of Memphis when he went home, but he wasn't thinking about that right now.

He wanted his haircut.

Mercedes' parents were out at one of their numerous holiday parties that night, though he'd arrived before they left and had appropriately oohed and ahhed over Mrs. Jones's elegant attire.

"You can't have this Jones woman," Mr. Jones had warned jokingly. Sam's exaggerated pout had earned Mercedes' eye roll and Mrs. Jones's kiss to his cheek.

"It'll be way after curfew when we get back so, Sam, safe travels to Memphis and I'm sorry we can't drop you off at the airport this time," Mrs. Jones had apologized.

"That's all right, Mrs. Jones; y'all have a Merry Christmas!" he'd replied.

"_Curfew_," Mr. Jones had stressed as they walked out the door, Mercedes' giggling in the background.

His lady was overcome by the case of the nerves once the door had clicked shut, rambling on about where the haircut should take place and then debating to herself about if she should give him a shampoo first.

"Yes."

She paused and looked at him. "Yes?"

"Shampoo first."

"Oh, okay," Mercedes said with a frown. "I'll have to use one of the barstools to reach—"

"Shower," he suggested, coming up to her until he barred her against the sink with his hands. "Both of us…_shampoo_…"

"_Mmm_," Mercedes intoned, arching her body into his as her fingers played with the buttons of the plaid shirt he wore over his long-sleeve tee. "But that still doesn't solve the problem of you being eighty-five feet taller than I am—_oh_…"

His mouth had found the corner of her jaw and he let his tongue lave it. He continued moving down her body even as his hands slid up her top; and like a good girl, Mercedes lifted her arms so he could whip it off her. He buried his face in her exposed cleavage, adoring the strong heartbeat under his cheek and the way her fingers combed his hair.

"I wish I could spend Christmas with you," he murmured.

Mercedes kissed his temple. "You can phone me, text me, even Skype me if your grandparents have Internet."

He kissed the pulse point at her neck. "Not the same."

She sighed and eased his head from her chest. "Come on; let's get this haircut going."

Mercedes wasn't any mood for hanky-panky in the shower, especially when they were on borrowed time, but that didn't mean Sam didn't try convincing her. When he knelt in front of her so she could wash his hair, he kissed her belly and nibbled on her nipples, grinning when she'd stop lathering his hair to grip it instead. When he bit a nipple harder than anticipated, she jerked and slipped, and would've gone crashing to the ground had his grip not been strong about her waist and thighs. But she refused his finger to the paradise between her legs, so he settled for caressing her softy belly with his trouty mouth.

"I love your fingers in my hair," he whispered against her skin.

"I love your hair," she replied, rinsing his hair from the suds. She laughed. "I don't know how it'll react to Pantene Relaxed and Natural, but I assure you it'll be clean!"

"I'm relaxed and natural," Sam insisted, hugging her waist and nuzzling his cheek against her bellybutton.

"Not all of you," she challenged, brushing her knee against his hardened cock. He moaned and kissed her tummy, distracting her enough to finally slip his fingers between her thighs. She was so soft, warm, and wet, and he wanted to taste her again.

"I love my fingers through _your_ hair," he whispered, loving the soft curls that covered her mound tickling his fingertips. He started to lean forward, his tongue leading the way, but she grasped his chin.

"_No_," Mercedes stressed, though it came out very flimsy. She managed to back away from him though and step around to turn off the spray, but Sam remained on his knees and nipped the glorious curve of her ass instead.

She jumped. "Sam!"

"Apple-bottom," Sam said with a mischievous grin. "I _love_ apples…"

Mercedes burst out laughing and scooted away. "You are a _mess_! Get up so I can cut your hair…"

Sam smirked when she picked up the plaid shirt he'd been wearing and buttoned it up over her nakedness. She shrugged nonchalantly but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I like how it smells."

"It smells like me, Mercedes," Sam reminded her, nuzzling the back of his head against her belly as they stared at each other through her bathroom mirror.

"Does it really? Wow! That's _amazing_!" she said sarcastically.

"Well, I think I should get something in return."

"You can't fit anything I wear."

"What I want I wouldn't wear."

She frowned. "What in the—?" She shoved his head playfully. "Nasty!"

"Nothing about your pussy is nasty to me," he rumbled, and smirked even more at the way she squirmed.

Mercedes didn't respond to verbally, but did grin and kiss the top of his damp head.

She hummed Christmas songs softly as she went to work, and her voice and the quiet snip of the shears made Sam drowsy. His head started drooping along with his eyes, so she'd have to gently nudge him here and there to continue her work. When she came before him, however, he perked up a bit, resting his hand low on her hip.

"Almost done," she promised, her brows furrowing as she continued to cut.

Sam curled his hand on her hip and drew her closer, snuggling his cheek into her chest. Mercedes chuckled a little and tickled his ear, making him laugh.

"I hope you don't do this to your barber when you go to Supercuts!" she teased.

"Nah, he's not as cute as you," Sam said, smiling against the curve of her left breast. He touched the point of his nose to her nipple and smiled wider when he realized how taut it was. He caressed her hips and thighs as the gentle snipping of the shears eventually ceased.

"There, done, gonna dry you now…"

Mercedes trailed off because Sam's hand slid between her thighs again and found her hot and slick once more. Mercedes shuddered and her clit quivered against his fingers, making Sam moan.

"Straddle me," he whispered, pulling back to meet her eyes, which were hazy with lust. Mercedes bit her bottom lip, drifting a thumb over his eyebrow.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," she mused. "I thought that title belonged to Puck, but you…your eyes are _beautiful_! I tried to give you a cut that would make them really pop but I don't know if I did."

"My eyes merely reflect your beauty whenever I look at you," Sam whispered, tugging her so she'd sit in his lap. Mercedes had made him wear his boxers, but that didn't hide how soaked and hot her pussy was.

"From anyone else, that would be corny as hell," she accused, closing her eyes and pumping her hips in time to his fingers' stroking. "But from you, that made me gooey."

"I love you gooey," Sam mumbled, attaching his mouth to her neck. "I love _you_."

She hugged him close as he continued fingering her, and he didn't stop until she shuddered her release and flooded his hand. Mercedes scooted her hips back a little to grasp his cock poking through his boxers and began stroking him firmly.

"Fuck," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. Mercedes breathed through her mouth, and blinked slowly. Her hand was so soft and warm around his cock, and the fact something softer and warmer was mere millimeters away had him bucking underneath her.

Mercedes bit her bottom lip and shifted closer until the head of him brushed the core of her. He cursed loudly and dug his fingers into her fleshy hip.

"Sam?"

"No…no time…_no_…" he insisted even as he bore her down on his cock. They both gasped and Mercedes tossed her head back. Growling a little, Sam unbuttoned his shirt with shaky fingers to expose her breasts to his heated gaze and mouth. He greedily latched on to a nipple and continued to guide her grinding with his hand. Mercedes released her hold on his length to clutch his neck, and he tilted up his head to meld their lips together. The chair creaked underneath them and the bathroom turned scorching, their gasps and moans bouncing all along the tiles.

"C'mon, Mercy, _c'mon_," he urged, bucking harder so that her breasts bobbed against his bare chest. "C'mon, baby."

"Sammy—"

"I love you, baby; come on, _come on_—!"

He came before she did, but she was too busy chasing down her orgasm to notice. He kissed her harder, surging his tongue in her mouth to tangle with hers, and she finally fell over the edge again. Mercedes broke the kiss with a gasp and sagged against him, her breaths grazing his temple. His cock could feel the spasms her pussy made from the linger effects of her orgasm and his dick twitched.

"I want to slide into you so badly," Sam murmured against her jaw. "But I won't."

She shifted slightly. "Why? Right now, I'd let you do anything you wanted."

"You deserve more than a quick fuck in a chair."

"I have a bed not fifty feet away…"

He shook his head and kissed her collarbone. "No time. I want all night with you."

"If you're waiting for _all night_, you'll be waiting a long time," Mercedes warned.

Sam brought her head down so their lips could meet. "As if you're not worth the wait."

After a few more minutes of just gently kissing and holding each other, Mercedes left his lap and both washed their hands in the sink. He bent his head down so she could manipulate his hair more, and she smiled at the end result.

"Not too shabby there, Mr. Evans!" she declared.

"I was in good hands," he replied and kissed her knuckles.

"Let me get my phone so I can take a pic and send it to Kurt. He'll have the final say."

"Shouldn't _I_ be the final say?"

Mercedes' indulgent snort was his answer.

Sam followed her into the bedroom, putting on his jeans and the long-sleeved tee as he did. He struck a pose for the snapshot that made Mercedes giggle, and they sat on the edge of her bed waiting for Kurt's response.

"I have a gift for you too," Sam said. She looked genuinely surprised and that made him laugh. "What, you're the only one allowed to give Christmas gifts?"

Mercedes shrugged, twirling the edge of his shirt she wore in her hands. "This is still new to me, Sam."

Suddenly he was nervous, too, and his hands shook slightly as he pulled the small box from his jeans' pocket. Mercedes eyed the gift warily but took it, then brought her hand to her mouth when she opened.

"Sam…"

"I know I kinda put the cart before the horse with this, but I wanted to get you something meaningful and valuable even though I don't have a lot of money to get you what you _really_ deserve and—"

Her lips stole the rest of his explanation. "This is beautiful and thoughtful and I love you."

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

She shook her head and cupped his cheek, kissing his nose. "I'm not. Thank you, baby."

He'd gotten her charms for a bracelet that he hadn't purchased yet. He knew which bracelet he wanted, however; maybe he'd be able to afford it by Valentine's Day. His father had offered to help him pay for it, but he declined. He'd gotten Quinn's promise ring with his own money; he wanted to get Mercedes' charm bracelet with his own funds as well.

"The cookie charm is because that was how we started to become real friends," he explained as he pointed to each charm. "The slipper charm because you allowed me to be your prince for prom…and the coffee charm because that was our first date." He would've gotten an "I Love NY" charm, but those were really expensive and he couldn't afford it. Mercedes didn't seem to mind, though, if her rapid blinking and small smile were a good thing.

She was about to say something when her phone buzzed, and then she burst out laughing upon checking the message.

"What?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. Kurt's "_Rawr_!" text had Sam blushing and hiding his face in Mercedes' neck.

The high of that last night in Lima faded once Sam returned to Memphis. Christmas at the Evans household carried over the strain from Thanksgiving, and Sam didn't like it at all. His grandmother walked on eggshells around him, and he despised treating her with the politeness merely due to a stranger. This was his grammy, and he loved her.

The fruits of his and Mercedes' Christmas shopping trip were ripe and well received, however. Stacy loved her _Dora the Explorer_ book box set, Stevie his _Classic_ _Transformers_ comic book, and his parents' a gift certificate to a very nice restaurant in Nashville. His grandfather had gotten a starter grilling set, and his grandmother a Patsy Cline master collection CD.

"And Mercedes helped me pick out everything," Sam announced to them, mainly for his Grammy's benefit and they all knew it. He didn't mention Mercedes offering to help him pay, but he'd been saving up from his job to be able to afford the gifts.

"What did you give Mercedes?" Stacy asked, snuggling into his lap.

"Two orgasms" probably would've gotten him grounded for the rest of the trip, so he just said charms for a bracelet.

It hadn't been difficult for Sam to convince his parents to let him return early from Christmas break when they'd bought the tickets, although Sam knew it'd been more the price of a cheaper flight than anything else. Nevertheless, he used that fact to his advantage and appreciated it nonetheless. But before he left Memphis, he made sure to give his grandmother a very large hug and his assurance he loved her very much.

"Oh, I love you, too, Sammy," his grandmother promised, pulling back to frame his face in her hands. "And it seems…just from the stories I keep hearing, this Mercedes loves you too. That's a definite plus in my book, for sure!"

The New Directions plus Blaine were back at Rachel Berry's house for a gathering; although this time, there was no alcohol to be found because her dads had changed the lock on the liquor cabinet and Puck's fake ID supplier had been busted a few days before Christmas. Still, they managed to have fun, running on the last few hours of the holiday season and letting lip-synched acts on the various New Year's Eve telecasts fuel their good cheer.

Blaine, Brittany, and Mercedes stayed giggling over something, and Kurt had a fond smile on his face because of it. Sam grinned with him, nudging Kurt's shoulder with his own, and Kurt turned that smile to him.

"I'm glad they get along," Kurt said. "That first meeting…well, we kind of shut her out a bit and I thought she didn't like him—we weren't even dating at the time."

"Young love," Sam said with a wisdom he really didn't have. The incredulous look Kurt shot him told Sam he wasn't buying it for a second.

"And nice touch with the charms, Mr. Evans," Kurt praised after a second. "Mercedes gushed all about them during Christmas."

"Thank you—thought of them myself…and Tina," Sam said with a little chuckle.

"Well, I approve," Kurt said. "How's your family? Stacy and Stevie?"

They talked for a long while, Sam grinning whenever Kurt and Blaine held a conversation with their eyes that led to the countertenor snickering or doing a coy head toss for his boyfriend's benefit. Sam would try to meet Mercedes' eyes, but she was always talking with someone. Her laughter, though, rang out above all the others, and that was good enough for him.

Suddenly, there was rapid thundering that halted the festivities, and an excited Finn jumped to the bottom of the stairs.

"Dudes! It's _snowing_!"

Everyone rushed outside, Puck carrying Artie up the stairs while Mike grabbed his wheelchair. There was some snow on the ground from previous snowfalls, but this one was different because it would be the last snow of this year and the first one of the next. They started a snowball fight with the snow already on the ground, boys v. girls with Blaine on the boys' side and Kurt finally on the girls' side. The girls won—but they cheated, using the divide and conquer method and distracting them with provocative booty shimmies and air kisses.

At least they gave them real kisses as consolation prizes.

Mercedes snuggled into Sam's chest and he grinned widely at the top of her head, playing with the little crochet bobble atop her hat. Rachel announced the ball was about to drop in two minutes, so everyone ran back inside.

Except them.

"Don't you want to see?" Mercedes asked as Sam gently pulled her back toward him when she started to follow.

"I've seen the ball drop before," he said. "I've never seen you on a New Year's midnight, though." He kissed her nose. "I prefer this to that."

She shivered, and Sam hoped it had more to do with his words than the bitter cold in which they were standing. But the snow was swirling in gorgeous fluffy flakes, falling upon her as if it were confetti. He brought her closer to share body heat, space, heart, and he pressed his lips to her cool forehead.

"You need more ChapStick, babe," she teased.

He huffed out a laugh against her skin and licked his lips. "Well…in the meantime…"

The countdown had begun, and he moved his mouth from her forehead to her lips in time with it. He reached her mouth before "ONE!" arrived, but neither cared. It was their first kiss of the new year and it was the best one so far.

They continued kissing through neighborhood cheers and hollers, slow, deep, and tender, until Mercedes broke it with a shiver and a sniffle.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, tucking her hat over her ears more.

She smiled softly at him. "For being my very first New Year's kiss ever."

He rested his forehead against hers. "What if I said I intend to be the only person you ever give your New Year's kiss to from now on?"

"I'd say _stay grounded_, Mr. Evans," she whispered on a laugh.

He smiled and brought her closer. "You ground me, Miz Jones."

She let their noses touch. "We should go inside; the big game is this Saturday and I don't need the whole of McKinley coming after me with pitchforks because I made you sick from making out in the snow."

He nodded, but bent his head. "One more, though."

This kiss was even sweeter than the last, their tongues sliding against each other, and hands roamed over their thick coats. Again, Mercedes broke the kiss and hugged him; Sam held her head to his chest to keep her close.

"Happy New Year, lady," he whispered with a grin.

"Happy New Year, Sam."


	26. Leader of the Pack

**Title:** Leader of the Pack  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, Finn, Kurt, Puck  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up through S2 of _Glee_.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mercedes hosts a football party featuring her grandma's famous cookies; Sam doesn't like sharing.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Only Mercedes' parents could make a vote of confidence sound like a warning.<p>

"We trust you, and Sam, to make _wise_ decisions," her mother had told her right before they'd left for their Black Professionals Ski Weekend. They'd made this trip every Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend since she'd been thirteen and they'd never felt the need to voice their implicit trust in her.

Until now.

"You have your _entire_ futures ahead of you," Mr. Jones had added, resting his hands on his wife's shoulders. "You with college and singing and, going by that conference championship performance, I wouldn't be surprised if some major programs started wooing Sam."

The William McKinley Titans had won impressively the weekend before, Shutdown Sam showing off on both sides of the field with two pick-6s and one thirty-yard touchdown pass even after Finn had thrown two in previous quarters. The girls swarmed the football team even more now that they'd won, but the glee members of the team used their girlfriends as barriers to ward off the advances, something Lauren, especially, didn't mind being at all. For his part, Sam didn't make a move without Mercedes if he could help it, clinging to her hand or wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they navigated the halls; and he always, _always_, gave her some sort of kiss before they parted.

Nobody could construe them as platonic after some of _those_ smooches!

So it'd been amazing to Mercedes that not only had her parents left with that little speech, they hadn't said anything about Sam (or anyone else) not being allowed to come over…not being allowed to _stay_ overnight…not being allowed to do _anything_—

Because they _trusted her_.

"Your parents are pimps," Puck determined, his head in her lap as he lay on her couch. He was bored so he'd come over just in time to help her bake cookies, though he was sad because all the ingredients had already been put away before he arrived. Mostly everyone in the glee club was away that holiday weekend—Lauren at a wrestling tournament; Rachel to visit her black dad's family; Santana in New York to visit her parents with Brittany tagging along; Quinn spending the weekend with her dad; and the Cohen-Chang–Chang families in the Poconos at a Lima Asian Association retreat. Mercedes was the only girl around and Puck, despite being the only male in a house with his mother and younger sister, had insisted he needed some sort of feminine energy that wasn't familial.

"Mama's boy," Mercedes had teased, sliding her fingers through his Mohawk.

Puck grinned at her upside down. "As long as you're the mama, sexy."

Mercedes rolled her eyes but indulged him with a kiss to the forehead.

"So the others are coming over later?" Puck asked, shifting his head to face the television and inhaling as the cookies' aroma wafted into the den. Lead-up to the AFC Divisional game between the Cincinnati Bengals and the New York Jets was on, but more as background noise than anything else.

"Yeah. Finn and Sam said they'd bring the pizza over, but Artie can't make it now because unexpected family has descended upon him. Kurt is grudgingly coming because I told him it wasn't healthy to sulk just because his boyfriend had the _audacity_ to take a family trip to Vail without him!"

Puck snorted. "Whipped."

"You're such a pot name-calling the kettle right now!"

"That is so racist," Puck whispered in a Brittany impression, and she hit his shoulder while trying her best to mask her giggles.

Other than when Mercedes went to take the cookies from the oven, she and Puck remained in the same position, debating with the sports analysts on the chances the Bengals had to pull out a win. Puck refused to relinquish his spot even when others arrived (Kurt using his key), nuzzling further into her belly and making quite indecent sounds as he did so. Sam looked like he was two seconds away from opening the two liters of Mountain Dew upon him until he realized doing so would put himself in harm's way for getting Mercedes soaked, so he pouted in the easy chair adjacent to them instead.

"I got dibs, bro!" Puck explained, even linking his fingers through Mercedes' to get the blond really riled. Mercedes did nothing, just looked at the television dispassionately, mainly because Puck's grip was deceptively strong and he was massaging the hell out of her hand. "She was my girlfriend first!"

"That's not how that works, _Puck_," Sam returned. "She's _my_ lady now!"

"She's _my_ mama!"

"She's _my_ goddess, and I had her first, if we _really_ want to talk 'dibs'; so get up, Puckerman!"

Mercedes turned to Finn, who was standing in between the easy chair and the sofa looking like a deer in headlights.

"On the breakfast bar, there's a church fan. You can stand right behind the sofa and fan me," she said nonchalantly even as a surprisingly adamant Kurt managed to yank Puck off her to take his place.

"Fan, got it," Finn muttered, and went to do as commanded.

"No cookies!" she warned and laughed at Finn's "Crap!" reply.

Mercedes let him do it throughout the entire commercial break before slapping his stomach lightly with his hand and telling him to sit down and get comfortable.

"Do I get a chance in your lap?" he asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Look, I know I'm as _big_ as a couch, but that doesn't mean I am one!" Mercedes cracked, then jumped and yelped when Kurt pinched her hard on one of her love handles.

"Shut up," he chastised.

"And it's a Mercedes _coupe_, not _couch_," Puck corrected with a wink.

"You know what? You can get up out my house," Mercedes said lowly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Seriously, though, do I get a turn?" Finn asked, and even pulled a puppy-dog face.

"I'm not interested in Rachel screeching in my ear—"

"I just don't think it's fair everyone else gets Mercedes cuddles except for me, that's all," Finn said with a shrug.

"That should totally be trademarked," Puck suggested, pointing at her. "I can be your lawyer—!"

"You cannot be her lawyer because you do not have a law degree, nor have you passed the Bar—"

"I'm just sayin', _Kurt_—"

"Nothing that makes sense, _Puck_!"

"Because you pinched me, Finn gets to take your spot—"

"What?" came Sam's and Kurt's outburst; Puck merely cackled.

"You heard her, bro—_my_ turn!" Finn said, pulling up a resistant Kurt after four attempts. Mercedes had to laugh at Finn's long limbs falling over the other arm of the couch and she started massaging Finn's head.

"Oh, yeah, that's _nice_…"

"You give _him_ a massage but not me?" Kurt asked with serious affront.

"Of all the people thus far, he's the only one not to work my nerve yet," Mercedes said primly, her eye widening when she hit a spot behind his ear that made his right leg twitch. "For real?"

"Uh…" Finn started turning beet red and placed a throw pillow over his groin.

It took two commercial breaks and Kurt dabbing her eyes with Kleenex before Mercedes calmed down from that laugh.

Eventually, all turned their attention to the game, which was full of staunch defense and questionable offense. When halftime finally arrive, Mercedes' voice was parched from cussing and the Bengals quarterback throwing two pick-6s—one of which was saved from the point after with a blocked kick. Mercedes was still muttering under her breath as she threw empty pizza boxes into the trash bin in the garage and walked right into Sam's chest. His lips were on hers before she could speak…as was his hand between her legs.

"You know," he began conversationally against her mouth, his thick index finger pressing hard against her clit through her thin leggings, "between everyone else getting a chance in your lap and Finn eating all the cookies after letting us just have _one each_…I was pretty pissed—"

"Sam!" she gasped, her body shuddering with her impending orgasm.

He smirked. "But then I realized that after they leave, I'll have all the cookie I want…in your lap…all night."

Sam muffled her scream with his mouth and his touch turned gentle as he eased her down from her high. He grinned and bit his bottom lip, tossing his head toward the den. "Second half's about to start."

Like Mercedes cared about the damn game! That was the pimpest move to ever be pimped, and she wanted more. Sam knew this, too, and had the gall to brush his thumb against her lower lip before leaving her in the freezing garage.

When she was sure her legs could support her and the cold became unbearable, Mercedes entered the house just in time for the phone to ring. Sam was finally on the couch and even patted her space in invitation.

"Watching the game with my harem," Mercedes said into the phone and stuck her tongue out at Sam. He frowned while Puck snickered, Kurt sighed, and Finn remained transfixed on the television.

"You're a Brewer woman; of course you have a harem," her mother replied, as if her daughter had said grass was green. "Tell them I said hello!"

Mercedes put on the speakerphone. "Say hi to Mama Jones!"

The boys chorused hellos, but they weren't nearly so enthusiastic when her father came on the line.

"When we said we _trusted your judgment_—"

"Kurt's here," Mercedes interrupted.

"Hi, Papa Jones!" Kurt greeted on cue and even waved though he couldn't be seen.

"But _harem_, baby girl?'

"Yep," Mercedes said, putting her feet in Sam's lap. "Finn fans me; Puck massages me; Sam feeds me; and Kurt's the bouncer.

"Oh, good Lord…"

"And we just got finished wrestling in chocolate syrup and whipped cream in the kiddie pool Kurt brought—naked—"

"Mercedes Jones!"

Mercedes was too busy dying with laughter into a throw pillow, so Kurt finished the discussion for her. When the call ended, Kurt threw an empty soda can at her.

"I can't believe you!"

Mercedes continued dying.

"I can go to Wal-Mart for that Cool Whip—"

"No!" Sam and Kurt said, interrupting Puck, and Mercedes died even more.

Her good mood remained well after the game ended, the Bengals getting their act together enough to play a flawless fourth quarter and win. Puck helped her in the kitchen while Kurt orchestrated matters in the living room.

"Sam got a little frisky with you earlier, didn't he?"

Mercedes almost dropped the cookie platter she was rinsing off in the sink. "What?"

Puck pulled a face and scoffed. "You think I don't know what Climax Eyes look like, Mama?"

She shook her head. "You're getting out of pocket, Puckerman."

"Well, as long as you let Sam get all up _in_ your pockets and everything else…" He nudged her. "Orgasm looks good on you, girl."

Her cheeks were burning, but that didn't stop Mercedes from eyeing him. "That ninja attack was your idea, wasn't it?"

He shrugged but grinned. "Maybe…"

Mercedes hit him with the hand towel. "Puck!"

"He looked miserable, and we all were kinda hoggin' you…I told him, yeah, we all might be half in love with you but he's the one who has you whole heart and so act like he owns it."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Y'all are _not_ half in love with me."

"If Kurt weren't gay…"

"But he is."

"If Finn were quicker on the uptake…"

"But he ain't."

"If I hadn't been such a wuss…"

Mercedes remained quiet then, especially when he grasped her hand.

"I was really upset when you ended with me, Mama," Puck admitted. "Yeah, I played it off like I didn't care, but I was really starting to like you and there's something in me saying you'll be the one I let slip through my fingers." He squeezed her hand. "So, I don't want someone as great as Sam making the same mistake I did by not showing you just how amazing and beautiful and sexy you are."

"He's not," Mercedes said, though not unkindly. "Sometimes I can't believe it, though. Still."

"Believe it, Mama, because we all see it," Puck said. "Accept all the things I didn't have the guts to give while we were dating…but if you're serious about that harem—"

Mercedes elbowed him in the ribs this time, but he laughed and hugged her close.

"I love you, Mama, okay?" he whispered into her temple.

"I love you, too, Puck."

He pulled back and dropped a chaste kiss to her lips. A tiny portion of her heart fluttered at it, but they didn't jerk away when they heard a voice clear. Sam's green eyes pierced her, and she licked her lips slowly.

"We're out, man," Puck announced, hitting Sam on the back good-naturedly. "Give you two lovebirds a chance to catch up and all—"

Finn all but panicked. "We can't! Mercedes didn't bake the extra cookies yet!"

"Her cookies aren't _for you_," Puck stressed and jerked his head to the door.

Kurt caught on and grabbed his stepbrother by the elbow. "Let's go, Finn."

"But—!"

"I'll have some for you on Tuesday," Mercedes promised.

"Maybe," Sam amended. "Considering you _ate_ all the other ones!"

"I'm a growing boy!" Finn defended himself.

"At six-three, I think you're done," Kurt muttered and rolled his eyes, but approached Mercedes and hugged her.

"_Details_," Kurt murmured in her ear.

"About?"

Kurt just arched an eyebrow and approached Sam.

Finn approached, face long and head hung low. "So no cookies, really?"

"I didn't even have one," Mercedes said.

Finn opened his mouth to defend himself, then realized he couldn't. "Man, I'm sorry."

Mercedes hugged his waist and he returned it. "That's all right; I'm sure you'll figure out a way to pay me back."

Finn nodded emphatically, and a few minutes later, everyone but Sam had left. Sam was leaning against the breakfast bar, staring at his hands contemplatively. Mercedes frowned and approached, covering his hands with hers.

"Sam?"

"You kissed him. You kissed Puck knowing I was only feet away."

He didn't yell it, but that didn't stop Mercedes from startling. "What?"

"You two _kissed_ each other, but this doesn't feel like when Quinn and Finn kissed…why aren't I more bothered by this?"

"Because it's Puck and Puck kisses are like handshakes," Mercedes said.

"Then why doesn't he just shake your hand?"

"Because Puck lives to antagonize people," Mercedes said. "It didn't mean anything."

"Okay," Sam said, arching an eyebrow. "So…what if the next time I see Quinn I give her a kiss?"

"I'll kill you," Mercedes said without hesitation.

"So how is _that_ different?"

"Kisses aren't handshakes to you, Sam."

"Are they handshakes to _you_?"

Mercedes squeezed his hands. "You, Brittany, and Puck are the only three people I've ever kissed in my entire life! And you know what? Only _you_ make my world tilt on its axis! Yeah, I'll admit Puck's kiss made it wobble a little bit, and Brittany really _can_ kiss, but none of them are _you_, okay? And I think the other reason you're not so upset is because you know, deep down, Puck _can't_ break us apart—even if he wanted to, which he _doesn't_…considering the 'suggestion' he gave you earlier…"

Sam blushed but grinned at her. "I barely touched you but you came so hard."

Mercedes shuddered again, his voice acting like his fingers as it stroked all up and down her body.

"Only you, baby, just _you_."

"Even though you have a harem?"

"You're the head harem dude, you know this," Mercedes insisted, standing on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Sam smiled at her, and her heart did a ridiculous shimmy. This boy definitely had nothing to worry about. She was all his.

"I told you everyone was in love with you," Sam said triumphantly against her mouth.

"I bet you want a cookie for that, don't you?" Mercedes teased.

His eyes flashed but he shook his head. "Just you…always _you_."

The quiet conviction in that statement had her whispering his name and bringing him down for a kiss meant to convey the deep emotions for which she had no words. He returned the kiss enthusiastically, deliberately, as if trying to eradicate any feeling Puck's kiss or Brittany's kiss had ever engendered in her. Her mind was consumed with nothing but pheromones and Sam, and she broke the kiss with a gasp and revelation.

"I'm ready."

Sam cocked his head and eyed her, genuine confusion on his face. "Ready for what?"

Mercedes bit her lip and squared her shoulders, touching one hand to his jaw, the other to the space over his heart. "I'm ready to make love with you."

He immediately started shaking his head. "Mercedes, what I said about Puck wasn't to get you to prove anything to me—"

She kissed him silent. "It's to prove something to _me_…that I've truly accepted the fact I'm someone worth loving, and I'm someone worth _you_."

"Fuck," he whispered and kissed her harder than ever before. His grip on her face was so firm it almost hurt, but she clung to him just as strongly. "I'll never be worthy of you, but I'll always strive to be, Mercedes Jones," he vowed, moving his kisses to her earlobe and jaw. "I want to give you everything I have—"

"Just you," she whispered, her voice shaky from the tears that had started to fall. "Just give me you."

It seemed as if one moment they were downstairs and the next they were naked in her bed, hands and lips roaming over forms so familiar yet suddenly so new.

"You remind me of the sun," Mercedes whispered, caressing her cheek and lips against his hardness. "You're brightness and warmth."

"You're my earth," he said into her mound a few minutes later. "Abundant, full of life."

Though she'd sucked him off enough to get him to orgasm, Sam didn't return the favor, making her whine and whimper for that elusive climax just over the edge.

"I needed mine out the way so I could last; because I know once I'm inside you it won't take me long," Sam said as he lined himself up at her entrance. Mercedes' brows furrowed and she arched her hips, but he didn't slide himself inside of her yet.

"This might hurt," he warned.

"Yeah, but I don't have a hymen for you to break," she said.

He paused, jaw opened "I thought—?"

"I broke it myself," Mercedes said sheepishly. Santana had suggested she do that over the summer and had even given her an unopened toy and some jelly she had in her "stash". Mercedes hadn't asked any follow-up questions, merely said thank you and taken Santana's advice. The pain had been sharp, but thankfully brief, with less blood than she'd expected.

"I don't know whether to be disappointed or relieved," he muttered.

"How about you just 'be' inside of me first and then make your decision," Mercedes sassed.

Sam arched an eyebrow, but cupped her cheek in his wide hand and kissed her nose. "I can do that."

"With a condom," Mercedes said abruptly, just now realizing he wasn't wearing one. Sam cursed and shot off the bed, making an awful lot of noise to find a tiny foil package. Mercedes stared at the ceiling and took measured breaths, her earlier bravado fading as she realized she was about to do something irrevocable. She knew she wouldn't regret it, though. No matter what happened in the future, she would never, ever regret sharing her first time with Samson Evans.

"This isn't right," he said once he loomed over her again, and wrapped a strong arm about her shoulder to pull her up. Eventually they were in an upright hugging position, faces in each other's necks as Sam used his free hand to position his sheathed length into her entrance.

"Breathe, Mercedes," he said on a chuckle.

"As soon as I remember how to, I will," she muttered into his shoulder.

"We don't—"

She pressed down hard into his lap, earning a very loud expletive in her ear and the fullest feeling she'd ever experienced. Her vaginal muscles stretched wide over the part of Sam that was inside her and harsh breaths left her nostrils.

"Shit, shit, _shit_," Sam chanted into her temple, then kissed it hard. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm the one who…" Mercedes trailed off and shook her head, dazed. "Damn, boy, where _all this_ come from?"

He let out a sheepish chuckle. "I'm not all the way in, Mercedes."

"You are for right now!" Mercedes declared, gasping. "_Damn_!"

"Yeah, in this position I can't go deeper, but if you don't stop clenchin' around me I'm not going anywhere because I'm gonna come!" Sam warned on a groan, squeezing her shoulders and her waist with begging fingers.

Mercedes winced, but not in a good way. This didn't feel comfortable _at all_, so she eased herself off him and collapsed on her back. Sam reclined on his side beside her, caressing her low on her tummy. She covered her face with her hands.

"Mercedes."

"I'm so embarrassed."

"No, don't, okay?" Sam reassured her and kissed her shoulder. "I think we may need some lube. Didn't you need some when you…erm…?"

Mercedes nodded. "It's in the bathroom—"

He stayed her with another kiss to her shoulder, then her left breast, even going so far as to give the nipple a quick suck. "I'll get it; I need another condom anyway."

"There are some in the drawer by Micah's sink," Mercedes called after him as he went into the bathroom. She didn't know what size they were, because as soon as she'd seen the box, she'd immediately closed the drawer in mortification. She doubted they'd fit, though, because Sam felt as if he were a yard long and a wrist thick!

"I _would_ pick the one white guy hung like a damn elephant!"

"Santana had appreciated that," Sam said as he climbed back on the bed between her legs.

Mercedes clamped her mouth shut against something wholly inappropriate and a little mean.

"You're not Santana, though," Sam eventually murmured. "And I'm your first. I want to take care of you, Mercedes. I don't want to hurt you, not even in this—_especially_ not in this."

What he was currently doing didn't hurt, his long fingers thrusting in and out of her with something cool and slippery that wasn't her natural juices. Mercedes' breathing grew shallow, as did her hips' thrusts, and her eyes connected with Sam's. The single light from the nightstand caught the green in his eyes just so they seemed to sparkle, and Mercedes reached out to him.

He came willingly, his mouth leading the way to her lips. Their kisses were soft, so soft they were practically just resting mouths against each other as Sam continued caressing her entrance. She framed his face and pulled it back, Sam kissing the heel of her hand, and she kissed his temple.

"Why are you so beautiful, Sam?"

"Because I love you."

She almost broke apart at that, but then the wide, slick head of him pierced her wet, delicate folds, and she reminded herself to breathe. His entry was careful, full of tiny thrusts that went deeper with each one. Sam distracted her as best he could from it with kisses to her neck and shoulders and his hand kneading her breast, but her entire focus was on him joining his body with hers.

"You're huge," Mercedes stated.

"You're a lot of woman to love," Sam teased.

"My pussy isn't," Mercedes said, the vulgar word feeling weird yet deliciously naughty on her tongue.

"Your pussy is my heaven," he replied on a groan. "And Peter's gone now, so I'm comin' in."

Mercedes would've judged him herself for that corny crack except he'd stopped thrusting and he pressed against something else deep inside of her. She looked wildly at Sam, who bit his bottom lip sheepishly and caressed her hip now.

"I think that's your cervix."

"Fuck," Mercedes whispered.

"Unlike you, I paid attention in sex ed," he teased, easing his penis back out and causing glorious friction against her vaginal walls.

"Oh, God, do that again," she whimpered.

"Oh, I plan to…all night long," he moaned, his next thrust firmer and a little faster, making her gasp.

Again, Sam's illusions of grandeur paled against the reality of it. Mercedes could barely handle five minutes and Sam struggled to get to six. She started to laugh at the "love faces" he was making, wondering why she finally pieced together what the hell Trey Songz was talking about at a time like that; but then Sam forced her to make her own when he caressed her clit with his thumb as he pumped.

"Is it funny now?"

She was still laughing, but nothing was funny at all. Her orgasm was building more potently than ever, her channel attempting to squeeze every drop she wouldn't receive because of the condom he wore, but that didn't stop it from trying anyway. Sam groaned deeply again and collapsed atop her, his hips going furiously now as tongue tried to match the thrusts itself.

"You're gonna come for me, aren't you?" Sam asked.

"Shit…"

"There's a rumor that says girls can't come on their first try, but that's bullshit; you're gonna come for _me_," Sam determined.

Mercedes locked her legs about his hips and clutched his firm ass in her hands. "Fuck me," she whispered.

"Shit," Sam panted, his rhythm breaking slightly. "Fuck, shit, _Mercy_—"

She slammed his mouth against hers just as the shudders began. He gave her one last, hard thrust that had her head rammed into her headboard. Their shouts twisted together, and Sam shook above her for a long moment before collapsing atop her, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped to get it back, and he slid his muscular body off her so her lungs could properly expand.

A gently hand touched the top of her head. "You okay?"

Mercedes didn't answer, inhaling deeply again to make sure she truly had her breath back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex.

"Oh."

"Oh?" he asked, looming above her again and cupping her cheek. "Mercedes?"

"I just had sex," she said.

"No, you didn't," Sam said with a kind smile and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You just made love."

"There's a difference? Really?" She thought that was just a line romance writers wrote in their books.

"A huge difference," Sam confirmed, kissing her nose.

"My head's fine," she answered belatedly.

He chuckled a little. "Good. I'm glad. Sorry about that."

"I'm sore," she added.

His grin faded and he started to retreat, but she tightened her thighs about his waist. "Lady?"

"I like you…just like this," she said shyly, looking at him through her eyelashes. "You feel good."

The blush that crept upon his face and his returning shy smile made her heart swell with even more love for him, and she giggled, bringing his head down for a light kiss. Sam gathered her close and fell onto his back without breaking their connection, leaving her lying atop him. He smoothed a hand through her short curls and smiled even wider.

"You're so adorable. And beautiful. And sexy." He suddenly turned solemn, still caressing her hair though his eyes were serious as they connected with hers. "And thank you for trusting me with your body, Mercedes. I'm truly humbled you chose me for such a precious gift."

Mercedes stopped caressing his ripped torso at that last statement, tears returning to her eyes at the sweet words. She leaned up while he leaned down to accept her kiss, and she nuzzled his nose with hers.

"You already had my heart, Samson Evans," she said, "it was about time I gave you my body too."

"And you were truly ready?" he asked carefully, now rubbing her bare back.

She nodded and cupped his jaw with a smile. "You're not the only one who wants to give everything in this relationship."

He smiled too, kissing her forehead before cuddling her into his chest, then soon he was snoring. And between that and the steady rise and fall of his chest, Mercedes eventually fell asleep too.


	27. Love in the Air

**Title:** Love in the Air  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Glee_ thus far.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sam realizes there's a difference when love's involved.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Rating for naughty words and deeds. Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>The room smelled like love, and it made Sam smile.<p>

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, merely breathed in deeply through his nose when the scent registered in his brain, but he'd recognized how different this smell was than it'd ever been in his life. Intellectually, he knew no smell could be the same with different experiences, but none of them had brought such an automatic smile to his face as this one had.

Sam's first time had been in Memphis, the summer before he'd moved to Lima, actually, with the cute visiting cousin of one of his down-the-street neighbors. She'd been vastly experienced, at least to his mind, and had taught him well. She'd been the queen of quickies those two weeks before he'd moved, though; so while the pleasure was fast in coming, disappointment would settle in even faster after it was all over.

She'd never stuck around long enough afterwards for him to catalog their smell.

Quinn had been his next experience, though that had been more heavy petting than anything else. They'd only gone all the way twice, the first time right after Kurt's and Finn's parents' wedding and she was on a post-nuptial high; and the second after his Justin Beiber performance and, looking back on it, a desperate attempt to reassure herself she'd not been interested in Finn at all. Sam had always let her determine how far they'd go because he'd respected what she'd gone through being pregnant. He'd been grateful for every little nugget she'd given him, and had shaken so badly their first time _she'd_ been the one to take the reins. Actually, she had both times—all but attacking him after that glee club performance with the rest of the boys (save Finn) as soon as he'd reached her house after school.

They'd smelled like desperate affection he'd realized weeks later; at the time though, he'd thought it was more.

Santana had been the best Sam had ever had, and also the worst. Despite her inconsideration outside of the bedroom; inside, she was assured and actually quite giving, although that generosity was from a selfish source rather than an altruistic one. She had a rep to maintain in her and one to cultivate in him; the last thing she needed or wanted was a boyfriend of hers to not be satisfied in bed. The problem, however, was she'd rarely let him return the favor. Even in his lovemaking, and probably especially there, he lived by the adage it was better to give than to receive. Santana had never let him give her an orgasm, although he'd come close three times. She' d shove him off her and finish it herself, thus denying him the credit.

They'd smelled like resentment, and it was the scent he missed the least.

"Sam?"

He looked down at the woman he held in his arms, the soft blinks and the hazy eyes trying to focus on his face. He smiled a little wider and kissed her forehead, pulling her closer to him.

"Good morning, love," he rumbled.

She ducked her head adorably and brushed her nose against his nipple. Sam chuckled and took another deep breath of their mingled scents still lingering in the air.

"I ache everywhere," Mercedes moaned. "And I'm hoarse."

"That's what bein' well-loved feels like, lady," Sam said in a John Wayne impersonation.

"Are _you_ sore?" she asked.

He lazily closed his eyes. "No…"

"Does that mean I didn't love you well?"

His eyes popped open. "Mercedes?" She hid her face even more in his chest and he tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. There was concern and a little contrition there, and he shook his head, kissing first one eye and then the other.

"You love me perfectly, all the time," Sam promised.

She pulled an incredulous face but didn't dispute him, and he smiled and kissed her nose in reward. Now her face scrunched up adorably and Sam laughed, cupping her cheek in his palm. For a moment, he just gazed at her and she let him, only averting her eyes once or twice under his scrutiny.

"Are we goin' to church today?"

She blinked. "You want to?"

"I brought something this time…"

A slow smile brightened her face. "Really, Sam?"

"Yeah, I love your church, Mercedes…" He'd been thinking of just joining outright, but he didn't want to leave Quinn by herself. Things were still rocky between her mother; and even after almost two years, she was still dealing with whispers from the congregation. Maybe they _both_ should officially switch flocks—

Mercedes' kiss knocked all thoughts of churches from his head and he gathered her closer, her soft breasts pressing against his hard chest. Sam moaned, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, and his hardening cock brushed against her inner thigh. It wanted in, and it wanted in _now_.

"Are you too sore for a quickie?" he asked against her lips.

She shifted her hips so the crisp hairs of her nether lips dragged against the head of his penis. He almost came then and there.

"I'm too greedy for a quickie, Sam," she murmured, tugging on his upper lip with her teeth. "And I _cannot _go into my church after doing…_that_!"

Sam snickered. "I bet your parents do!"

"My parents _can_ because they're _married_," Mercedes reminded him.

Sam scooted down the bed until their faces were level. He drifted a finger along the bridge of her nose and she closed her eyes at the contact. "That's something to look forward to, then," he ultimately said in a quiet voice.

"Sex before church?" Mercedes asked on a snort.

Sam kissed her tenderly. "Making love to my wife before I go thank the Lord for blessing me with her."

Mercedes palmed his cheek and smiled, her eyes still closed. "Yeah, still here. One day I'll have to wake up from this dream, though, and I'm dreadin' the hell out of that!"

He huffed a laugh through his nose and kissed her again, this time adding tongue to make sure she realized this was, in fact, real and much better than any dream he could conjure.

Church was more electric than Sam had ever seen it, the pastor using Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" as the basis of his message. Sam had never heard of the letter before, but Mercedes apparently had, even quoting some lines from the letter along with the reverend. Sam was amazed by how something written almost fifty years ago could be so incredibly relevant today, just going by his personal experiences with Mercedes alone. He'd known cursory details about all of the liberation movements in the Middle East and North Africa from last year because the network news always got the best reception in the motel room. But the other things like the London Riots last summer and even, apparently, an incident in Mississippi where a black man was run over simply for being black could still happen.

Sam, who'd already been holding Mercedes' hand throughout the service, held it a little tighter after that.

When church ended, Sam gripped Mercedes' hand and fought his way to the pulpit, having to stop to say hello to members who knew Mercedes and were starting to get to know him. Several of the elders nudged Mercedes' shoulder with their elbows and declared Sam adorable, causing them both to blush and Mercedes to give a giggling thank you. They finally made it to the front, and the reverend's eyes brightened at the sight of them.

"Children, well, not so much now, I suppose. You all right, Mercedes?"

"Yes, Reverend Albright, but I think Sam wants to talk to you?"

Sam glanced uncertainly at his girlfriend before facing the reverend. "How do I go about joining your church?"

Mercedes gasped and the reverend's eyebrows rose. "You sure?"

Sam nodded. "Every time I come, I enjoy myself and learn something, and everyone's been real nice. And this is my lady's church so…"

"Your _lady_?"

Sam bristled slightly but stood straighter. "Mercedes is a lady and she is mine."

Mercedes inhaled sharply and squeezed his hand hard. "Sam!"

"Son, that was a mighty declarative statement."

Sam tilted up his chin. He could get far more declarative than that, but he figured Mercedes would kill him and ask God for forgiveness later so he kept his mouth shut.

"Son, you don't have to join the church just to talk to me if you need to talk—not that I want to turn down membership, but…you're unique."

"I'm white," Sam said baldly.

Reverend Albright nodded. "Yes, and I know you're with Mercedes, here, but I don't want angry parents descending upon this church because I did something without their permission."

Mercedes came to the Evanses' defense. "Sam's parents aren't like that!"

Reverend Albright turned a little sad. "Parents aren't a whole lot of things until their children stumble upon those hidden 'Do Not Cross' signs…seen it happen to many times to not protect myself and this church from it."

Sam's shoulders slumped and he clenched his jaw. "It ain't right!"

"No, it's not," Reverend Albright agreed, then granted them a small smile. "But the way you treat Miss Jones here is—don't think I don't see you in the congregation—"

"Kinda hard to miss," Sam muttered, and he smiled when Mercedes hid her laugh in his upper arm.

Reverend Albright chuckled a little. "Yeah, but…you call Mercedes here a lady and rightfully so; so for me, that makes _you_ a man—a _gentleman_—and that's all right in my book. And God's, if I may be so bold."

They stayed only a few moments more, Reverend Albright using a compliment to Mercedes' haircut to ask after Miss Renée in a way that made Mercedes smile coyly and tell him she'd be back from New York sometime tomorrow afternoon.

"Just curious," Reverend Albright said, coughing slightly. "Missed her fabulous hat today…"

They stopped by a KFC on the way to Mercedes' home and got into an argument at the window for a good three minutes before a honk from the minivan behind them and the window attendant huffing for the fourth time ultimately declared Mercedes the winner of paying for the food. Tense silence was the unexpected third party of their late lunch/early dinner, and Mercedes went to change immediately after she finished eating and clearing her spot.

Sam loosened his tie and pulled his shirttails out of his trousers to get comfortable on the couch. ESPN provided background noise to his suddenly surly mood and he scowled at his phone while texting Mike to let him know the house was still standing hopefully and ignoring Puck's, Kurt's, and Finn's texts asking for what happened between him and Mercedes last night. His lady returned ten minutes later looking positively scrumptious in a thin, tight long-sleeved T-shirt that couldn't hide her black sports bra and thin pajama pants.

"Are you leaving today or tomorrow?"

Sam blinked slowly at her. "You want me to leave?" Truth be told, this wasn't exactly the way he thought the day after their first time would go.

Mercedes glared at the television. "You seem pissed, especially after talking to Reverend Albright, which had been _your_ idea—"

"Just find it curious that after a sermon based off of Martin Luther King, Jr., he won't let me join his church," Sam muttered with a shrug.

She pinned far-too-revealing eyes upon him. "That it, Sam?"

He looked away from her and sighed, shook his head, then grabbed her hand and tugged her closer. She planted her feet once her knees bumped his so Sam sat forward and kissed her belly.

"Stay _grounded_, Sam," she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair.

"I'd rather fly with you," he murmured against her navel. He loved her stomach. It was soft and fleshy and _woman_ even though she was just seventeen and not quite there yet. _He_ was just seventeen, and Sam belatedly realized that was the point Reverend Albright was trying to make.

He'd also sussed out the "church" Sam wanted to join had little to do with the brick-and-mortar building in which they'd been standing.

"Why didn't you want me to pay earlier?" she asked, not acknowledging his last comment. "I thought we'd resolved that issue."

"I'm the man. The _gentleman_," Sam explained, resting his cheek on her stomach and closing his eyes. The under-curve of her breasts brushed against his forehead and temple with each breath she made. "It's my job."

"Sam—"

"I'm Southern, Mercedes; that's how I was raised," Sam said, pulling back and bringing her with him. She didn't resist this time and straddled him, discomfort flitting across her face for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…"

He blinked, then he grinned, earning a slap on the shoulder. "Sorry—"

"No, you're not!" Mercedes challenged but chuckled anyway though she tried to scoot back.

"Where you goin'?" he asked low.

"Um…"

"If it don't hurt too bad, stay…you feel good on…"

"I feel good on?"

"Yeah," Sam said, his hand immediately going to her hair to feel the softness of her curls. Mercedes closed her eyes to relish in his touch, and never before had he known he could make a girl "relish" anything.

"On me, around me," Sam murmured, sliding his hand down from her hair, across her shoulder, collarbone, and breast to settle upon her hip before sliding between her thighs. There was another football playoff game queuing up, but Sam had no interest watching that and every interest watching Mercedes as he filled her from the inside.

"Still can't figure out how Santana said you have no game," she mumbled, moving her hips in time to his fingers.

"Because I really _don't_ have game," Sam agreed, kissing her jaw. "Just truth, love, and you. Reckon that's all I need, actually."

Mercedes didn't want to watch the game, either, and led him by the shirttails back to her room. She undressed him as he sat perched on the edge of her bed and loved his cock with her mouth before letting him sheath himself with a condom so she could love his cock with her pussy. Discomfort wisped across her face again when he'd entered her, but Sam used his lips on her neck to distract her from it and replace it with pleasure.

"Like this?" Mercedes asked breathlessly when she realized he was inside her as she straddled him.

"Yes. I love holding you like this," Sam said, pulling her shirt and bra off with less finesse than he'd liked but it got the job done. Her breasts bounced against her torso and he lifted them to his face. Mercedes laughed and he smiled, kissing both areolas before reaching her lips again. He thrust into her lazily, his body absorbing every shudder hers made, and the way her body moved had him biting his lip to muffle his moans. She was the slickest, creamiest vice around his dick and he never wanted to leave her.

He started to lean back and she began to follow, but he kept his arms locked so she snaked above him.

"Fuck, yes, Kurt's right—you're a goddess," Sam muttered, cupping her large breasts in his hands while licking his lips. Mercedes palmed his hands over her chest and scrunched her eyes tightly, moving harder and faster above him. He didn't care her rhythm wasn't smooth or sometimes she ground against him so hard he lost his breath. She was the best, she was love, and she was his.

"Sam—"

Her grunt and whimper cut off whatever she wanted to say, and the way she fluttered around his cock told him she was close. Sam pulled her to his chest and flipped them over, looming above her as he thrust hard and deep inside of her.

"Come all over me, Mercy," he urged, kneading her breasts as he gyrated his hips into hers. Mercedes groaned, her brown eyes wild as she stared at him. Suddenly she grinned, and Sam could do nothing but taste that grin with his mouth. After that, all he could hear was their heavy breathing, the headboard knocking against her wall, and his shouted name as she reached her climax. Sam groaned Mercedes' name into her neck and inhaled.

Love. All over. He felt himself getting high again.

"Are you…_sniffing_ me?"

"Yes," he muttered into her skin, then licked the salty taste of it. Delicious.

"Do most guys do that after sex?"

"I have no idea because I've never had sex with a guy."

Mercedes burst out laughing before reining it back in. "Oh, goodness; I think Kurt would be severely disappointed by that last year!"

He pulled his head from her neck and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Massive crush on you, he had," Mercedes revealed, brushing some of his fringe from his forehead. "I mean, I got it on a purely aesthetic level but you didn't impress me much then."

Sam grinned and kissed her lips lightly. "I thought you were sexy with your New York shirt on that first day. Puck kept checkin' out your ass too."

Mercedes snorted. "Kinda big."

"And soft," Sam added, palming her butt cheeks in his hands. "One of my favorite parts of you."

"What are the other ones?" she asked and began clenching around his cock again.

"Your lips," he said against them as he started to thrust once more. "Both sets…"

By the time Sam returned to the Chang house the next day, over half of Mercedes' brother's box of condoms was now in her wastebasket. Mercedes had sent him home with a tin full of cookies and hickeys on his neck and other places clothes normally covered. He was sore, too, a revelation that had made Mercedes beam adorably, and he'd missed her just as soon as he'd crossed the threshold of her house toward his truck.

He was knocked out when the Changs arrived home and would've stayed asleep had Mike not awakened him that Tuesday morning for school.

"Feelin' all right, man?" Mike asked, frowning.

Sam gave him a half-smile and nodded, knowing he was too close to blurting out what had happened yet know this was neither the time nor the place with fifteen minutes to get to school. Luckily, he was pretty quiet in the mornings, but Mike wasn't an idiot, either; he knew something major had gone down with his friend.

It took Sam a moment to spot Mercedes in the hallways, and she was walking kind of slow. It wasn't icy on the steps this morning at school, but that didn't mean she didn't wipeout in her driveway. He was just about to go see if she were okay when Tina, Santana, and Quinn approached.

"I know that walk," Tina said on a laugh. "I slipped on some ice going toward our cabin in the Poconos!"

Mike snickered into his locker and Sam elbowed him, biting his lip so he wouldn't laugh as well.

"I'm sorry; that was hilarious. I just wish I'd gotten it on camera!"

The girls looked to them and Tina glared. "If you'd gotten that on _camera_, Michael Chang, you'd become well acquainted with your hand for the next few weeks!"

"Wanky," Santana said, quirking an eyebrow, and Quinn and Mercedes giggled, touching foreheads together.

"Tina, that type of punishment to me is a punishment to you too," Mike reminded his girlfriend. The answering smirk she gave had Mike's face falling very flat. "Wait, what?"

"_Wanky_!" the other three girls exclaimed and laughed, slapping each other's hands.

Sam knew his face was blazing, but now all he could imagine was exactly what female wanking entailed and he'd so have to get Mercedes to show him one day. She glanced over at him, feeling the power of his eyes, and smiled a shy hello. His was more confident and he mouthed "I love you" to her.

The first bell rang and people began to scatter. Tina, in her excitement, forgot about Mercedes' gingered pace and started to yank on her, causing Mercedes to moan.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tina asked.

"I can't move that fast right now," Mercedes mumbled, shuffling along toward their first-period class.

"Because you slipped?"

Santana frowned. "No, the gait's off for a slip. You only get a jacked-up walk like that from—"

The girls gasped and immediately swung their eyes to Sam.

"_Dude_!" Mike exclaimed, clapping Sam's shoulder.

"MERCEDES!" Tina squealed and wrapped her friend in a hug, making Mercedes laugh. "Oh, sweetie!"

Santana and Quinn, approached him, their eyes demanding explanations.

"Couldn't go easy on her, could you?" Santana accused.

"You know it was her first time, Sam! You should've been more considerate!" Quinn added.

"I went as easy as I could!" Sam said, ignoring Mike's muffled guffaws over the fact his two ex-girlfriends are lecturing him about loving on his _current_ girlfriend. Only in his life could such a bizarre conversation happen.

Santana paused and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, that's true. Who knew a hillbilly like you would be hung like Mr. Ed—?"

"Santana!" Quinn and Sam exclaimed. Mike fell against the lockers, now crying from his laughter.

"Well, I'm just sayin'—even I was walking a little crooked after me and Sam—"

"Santana, _please_," Sam begged, glad the second bell rang. They had seven minutes to get to class on time; but his and Mike's wasn't even a minute up the hallway while Quinn's, Mercedes', Tina's, and Santana's was right across the hall. He glanced at Mercedes and Tina again, seeing his lady's shoulders hiccup in Tina's embrace.

Sam knew instinctively she wasn't laughing anymore and he started forward. "Why's she' cryin'?" Sam asked, distressed. Mike perked up as well because Tina had tears in her eyes also. "Mercedes!" Sam asked, panic lacing his voice.

She pulled away from Tina and wiped her cheeks, the other girl helping her. "I'm all right."

"You're cryin'!" Sam replied, taking Mercedes' face in his hands to finish the task himself. "Do you hurt that badly?"

"I don't hurt at all," she said, her voice taking a dreamlike quality. "Just…everything hit me finally, that's all."

"What everything?"

"That I'm not an eighty-year-old virgin playing auntie to everybody else's kids."

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "No, you're not, and if I have my way—"

"Gotta go!" Mike said, tugging him along by his sleeve. The girls were leading Mercedes to class also and Sam threw her a wink before rushing down the hall and scooting into class just before the bell rang. Mike looked at him knowingly and smirked; Sam just shrugged.

"Saved by the bell, huh?" Mike asked.

"Nah, I was fully prepared to say what I was gonna say."

Mike's eyebrows rose. "Are you gonna say it the next time you see her?"

Sam shook his head, opening his Economics textbook and turning to the front of the class. "But when the next right time comes along, you bet your bippy I will!"


	28. Eventually, Someday, Definitely

**Title:** Eventually, Someday, Definitely  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam, glee club  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up through _Glee_ S2.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> With the end of the school year looming, Mercedes prepares for change.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> This is the last of the "Then Came You" series! It's been an interesting journey - one of the longest fics I've ever written, but it got me through the hiatus and allowed me to explore my favorite character and how she could possibly relate to the group. Honestly, didn't expect so much support, but thank you so much for it and I hope you enjoy this update! Although the main series is over, there may be outtakes posted as well. Again, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Please forgive errors and enjoy!

* * *

><p>It seemed the school year went full throttle after the MLK break for Mercedes, and she wasn't sure if she liked that or not. After making love with Sam, they were stronger than ever, although in a weird way, sex still wasn't a focal point in their relationship. This was probably because her parents and the Changs were always around now, and they both felt uncomfortable doing it with them home; but their makeout sessions definitely helped keep the edge off.<p>

The glee club won Regionals performing the same set list as Sectionals, but they tweaked it by adding a true a capella verse for "Man in the Mirror" with all the glee guys and having Brittany, Mike, and Tina perform a featured dance during the instrumental to "Waiting on the World to Change". It was a great way to welcome spring break.

So were the college acceptance letters.

Mercedes had been ecstatic she'd gotten into her first-choice Oberlin College, hugging Sam so tightly he'd almost turned red in the face. Sam's letters had gone directly to his house in Tennessee, particularly because he'd applied to state schools there as they'd been cheaper. He'd been so sure he wasn't going anywhere, so the three acceptances he'd gotten, plus a full ride to Memphis University on a football scholarship, had shocked the hell out of him.

"I'm goin' to college," Sam had breathed over the line. He'd gone to Nashville for his spring break to spend time with his family since their school schedules were off and had paid for the train ticket all by himself. Mercedes had hooked up his mp3 player with train-appropriate music and her brother had donated another comic for him to read—_Static Shock_ this time—to keep him occupied.

"Was there any doubt?" Mercedes had asked gently, her voice full of pride and a bit of sadness.

"Yes, but none of y'all would let me wallow in it—you, Mike, Tina, even Quinn and Artie. Y'all are the best, for real," Sam declared, and Mercedes kissed him through the phone.

When she'd heard he'd gotten in, Mercedes had immediately gone to Google Maps to see how far away from each other they'd be. Over seven hundred miles there were, and that revelation had sent Mercedes into a melancholy she hadn't anticipated.

They were growing up. They couldn't turn back from that now.

All around people were discussing their plans upon graduation. Both Rachel and Kurt had gotten into Tisch School for the Arts in New York, thus fulfilling their goal to get to the Big Apple. Finn and Puck were staying in Ohio and going to Ohio State; and although neither got a full ride, their partial football scholarships would definitely help. Quinn was also staying in state but going to Miami University. Out of all of them, Mike was going the furthest away—Stanford—where he could excel academically and athletically by still playing football even if his scholarship were an academic one. Tina was taking the news like a trooper in public; but in private, both had sobfests over potentially being so far away from their boos.

"He won't forget me, will he?" Tina had asked, snuggled into Mercedes' chest as they cuddled on her couch.

"Oh, no, he loves you, Tina," Mercedes had assured her friend. "You two are going to get married and prove to Brittany you two will have Asian kids…"

Tina laughed so hard at that she almost fell off the couch, and that made Mercedes smile.

Lauren received a wrestling scholarship to King College in Tennessee, which had her and Sam bonding over his home state. Puck joined Mercedes in her melancholy over the news.

"We're gonna hafta break up," he'd said sadly, his head back in her lap when he'd come over after school one day.

"Why?"

"That's not fair to Lauren. She's too awesome to be tied down to me and I'm not there…and I have a wandering dick. It's bound to happen and the last thing I wanna do is hurt her."

Mercedes had rubbed his six pack over his shirt and Puck had squeezed her hand. "You really do love her, don't you?"

"Yeah…she may end up not being my greatest love, but she's a damn good one, 'Cedes."

Santana and Brittany weren't going to college—at least not right away. They were taking a year off to "shoot the shit" as Santana had so delicately put it and audition for dance shows.

"Las Vegas, baby!" Santana had said. "A bribe from my parents, but I'm not stupid enough not to take it…"

"Lord Tubbington said this could be the start of something big and I need to keep Santana out of trouble," Brittany said. Santana grinned and looped her arm through the blonde's kissing Brittany's cheek.

"We have to take courses, though. _Tía_ Renée made us promise," Santana said with a small scowl.

"Good," Mercedes said, snickering when Santana shoved her affectionately.

With all of the upcoming changes descending upon the glee clubbers, Mercedes knew she could rely on Mr. Schuester to be same ol', same ol'. The proposed set list for Nationals, which they now knew to be at Disney World, was going to feature musicals, per the rules of the competition, and Rachel suggested using Disney tunes to double their potential points.

"I think we should perform 'Part of Your World' with me as the featured soloist—"

"White girl anthem," Santana muttered under her breath, and Tina, Mercedes, and Lauren hid their snickers behind their hands.

"Again, with the racism," Quinn said on a sigh.

"Well, it is!" Santana insisted. "Any time a white girl starts, all the other white girls join in. You call it racist; I call it observant—"

"Okay, enough," Mr. Schue said, shaking his head. "I'll note the suggestion, Rachel—"

"It's a _sucky suggestion_," Puck said. "It's only 'Ariel' singing the song, and I'm uninterested in standing with my back to the audience _again_ while Rachel hogs the spotlight!"

"Er…should I be _concerned_ you knew all that," Finn asked slyly.

"Knock it off! Little sister? DVD? _Babysitting_? You pick up things, dude!"

"Yep," Sam said with a nod, and they shared a brofist.

"Fine, I could perform 'Colors of the Wind'—"

"_Again_, a true solo; try again, Rachel," Puck said, almost growling.

"Besides, why should you get to sing the solo? We've gotten here without you singing _any_ solos this year in competition," Quinn added.

"Because I'm the leader—"

"No, Tina, Artie, and Mercedes are," Lauren said. "And quite frankly, the one person in this group who's _yet_ to be featured in _anything_ is Mercedes, so _she_ should get the Nationals solo!"

Rachel scoffed. "That can't _possibly_ be true—!"

"And yet, it is," Kurt said quietly.

"Okay, fine, maybe for this year—"

"_Ever_, Rachel, ever," Tina corrected.

"And, no, wailing on the glory note doesn't count," Artie said, cutting off Rachel's sharp exhalation that was preparing her next argument.

Mercedes fiddled with the straps of her watches, feeling extremely uncomfortable by the conversation about her.

"I can't believe Mercedes hasn't had a solo yet," Mr. Schue said absently.

"I'm not suitable for competitions," Mercedes said with a shrug, hating how tight her throat was getting and the prickling in her eyes. "I get it. After three years of being in this club you learn a thing or two, so we just need to do whatever we can to make sure we have the best shot of winning. And if that means Finn and Rachel get all the solos, then let 'em have 'em."

The silence was very uncomfortable in the room after that and Mr. Schue sat on the stool before the class, a highly contemplative expression on his face.

"Seriously, guys, come on!" Mercedes said, perking up and bouncing in her chair. "Maybe—maybe _Puck_ could do 'Be Our Guest'! I think that'd be _amazing_ and can be cheesy, but in a good way. And the vocal arrangement on that is difficult enough to show our skills with the descants and the slight operatic feel—it worked for Vocal Adrenaline, right…or so Jesse kept reminding us last year that they did 'Bohemian Rhapsody'…"

"Oh, my goodness, _yes_!" Tina said, also bouncing. "And Mike and Brittany could some skit-dancing along with it—"

"I call Mrs. Potts's part," Lauren said deadpan. "She's boss."

"Hell, yeah, she is!" Puck said, and they slapped hands.

"I want Cogsworth!" Kurt claimed, clapping his own hands, his blue eyes sparkling.

Mr. Schue was laughing even as he held up his hands to stem the enthusiasm. "Really? That song?"

"Yes!" everyone exclaimed, and even Rachel seemed excited about it.

"Well, there's one down. We still need three more songs though, because we _will_ place in the top ten this year!" Mr. Schue said.

"Oh! Remember when we were talking about 'Hairography'?" Rachel asked.

Mr. Schue slowly nodded. "Yes…"

"I think 'The Age of Aquarius' would be perfect for Mercedes to sing," Rachel determined.

Mercedes blinked hard and her jaw dropped. "Rachel?"

She shrugged and smiled shyly. "What? I think you would. If you're good enough for the glory note, you're definitely good enough for an entire song…" She shrugged again. "Besides, there are _four songs_; I'm bound to get a solo in one of them…at least a verse…?"

"But it's not Disney," Mercedes reminded her.

"Of course not! Don't you think _every_ choir is going to sing Disney to suck up to the judges? We're going to be more eclectic than _that_!"

Rehearsals were long, arduous, sometimes tense, sometimes unproductive; but everyone felt much more truly confident for this trip to Nationals than last year. It helped there was no prom drama this year and they didn't have to perform there, either. Everyone went together as a group and no fights broke out during the dance, actually becoming much closer just in time to head to Disney World.

Sam and Mercedes sat with each other on the trip down instead of playing coy, linking fingers together and rest heads against shoulders. She squeezed Sam's hand during take-off and landing, realizing those two moments of the flight made him the most nervous; and like a gentleman, he handled both of their bags once they made it to baggage claim and even hauled Quinn's duffel on his extra shoulder.

Though most of them were just weeks away from high school graduation, all of them became little kids when they finally saw Disney World. Finn, Puck, and Artie had already circled where they were going to go in each of the major theme parks and Kurt had jokingly asked if they'd made time for the actual Nationals competition in their personal itineraries.

"Oh, yeah…" they'd all murmured, and everyone had laughed.

Sam, Santana, and Rachel stayed up with Mercedes and Kurt to put the final touches on their costumes, the group hanging out by the boys' room in the wide corridor of their hotel. There were other groups staying on their floor as well; but the New Directions contingent ignored them for the most part.

"I don't know how you do it, Rachel," Mercedes muttered, squinting at the cream-colored thread she was measuring out. "I feel like I'm gonna hurl every time I think about the competition."

"Luckily, I am as dedicated as an understudy as I am a star so I'll be _more than happy to_—"

"Stuff it, Hobbit," Santana hissed. "Ain't happenin'!"

"You'll be fantastic," Sam encouraged, kissing Mercedes' shoulder, and she smiled.

"You've waited three years for this," Kurt said, "and you've prepared. I can't wait to hoist that first-place trophy!"

"That's Artie's job, though," Santana said. "You know he gets first dibs."

"Fine, then I call second," Kurt said placidly.

"But, yeah, _Se__ñ__or_ Evans? No smooching the girlfriend onstage this year, 'kay? At least not during the performance. I can't promise not to wait to go all Lima Heights on folks before we leave the stage…"

The other three left Sam and Mercedes out alone when they finished for the night, Kurt taking the garments into the boys' rooms because the boys would be less inclined to take sneak peeks than the girls. Rachel reminded them of curfew, but neither had planned on leaving their positions against the wall.

"You'll be awesome and you'll rock it out," Sam said, hugging her shoulders tightly.

"I love you," Mercedes replied.

"Yeah…that's awesome too," he replied, and kissed her goodnight before walking her the ten feet across the hall to her door and kissing her again.

What the much of the rest of the glee club didn't know was this year there was a solo competition as well as the group competition, and Mercedes was performing in that as well. She'd let slip to Mr. Schue she hadn't auditioned for the Oberlin Conservatory because she didn't think she'd get in.

"You're not serious, are you?" he'd asked, clearly flabbergasted by her comment.

Mercedes had just shrugged. "I could never get any recognition in lil' ol' Lima…why would I think I could break out at Oberlin?"

Mr. Schue had gotten that grave look on his face, the one he got whenever he had to deliver bad news. "I'm so sorry, Mercedes…"

She'd almost said it wasn't his fault, except most of it kind of was. Instead, she just shrugged and grinned. "Not so bad. I can always see how I feel about auditioning next year for it."

He nodded slowly once. "You know…there's a solo competition in addition to the group ones. I was going to give the slot to Rachel, but I'm giving it to you instead."

"What? No! Rachel would kill for that opportunity and I already have a solo—"

"You deserve a chance to shine all on your own. I remember 'Night of Neglect'…and I really wish the entire student body had been there to hear what a treat you gave us. You're a star, Mercedes. Sometimes you think the brightest star is the one closest to you, when in actuality it's the ones further out with the most light."

"Did you just diss Rachel in front of me?" Mercedes had asked with an edge. As much and often as Rachel got on her nerves, the girl was still her best frenemy.

Mr. Schue laughed and shook his head. "Not really…just…making very bad Astronomy analogies. Good thing Sam wasn't here to hear it!"

Sam and the others _were_ there to hear the organizers call her upon the stage as they waited for their turn to perform in the preliminaries. Mr. Schue gave her and Tina confident squeezes to their shoulders and told her to knock it out of the park. Her knees wobbled mightily as she walked down the aisle to the stage, gripping Tina's hand tightly, and Mercedes hugged her friend before she went to the piano.

"You'll be awesome!"

"So will you!" Mercedes said, then stepped up to the microphone as Tina settled before the keys.

If she had to judge herself, Mercedes would say she sang the hell out of _The Color Purple_'s "I'm Here". She had her father to thank for that, too, because he knew all things "Black Broadway". And she remembered her and Kurt crying ugly tears when Fantasia had sung it at the Tony Awards a few years ago. But damn if a song didn't sum up her experience during high school, but particularly this last year.

The audience knew they'd heard brilliance because they'd given a seriously long standing ovation, to the point she, along with Tina, had to come back out and give another bow, embarrassment barely hidden by Mercedes' dark hue.

They only had two minutes between the end of her solo slot and the beginning of New Directions' performance so the club didn't have time to grill Mercedes, thankfully, but that didn't stop Sam from laying a heavy one on her in front of everyone and vowing they would discuss this later.

"Er…do I have time to change my pants after that?" Puck asked, and Lauren slapped him upside his head.

"Be Our Guest" was hilarious, with Puck really hamming it up like a good candlestick should while Brittany and Mike cut the proverbial rug; but the number that really brought down the house was "Anything You Can Do" from _Annie Get Your Gun_, a suggestion by one Rachel Berry that would feature everyone's voices. It was the ultimate "Boys v. Girls" for the glee club performed on the biggest stage, and they had so much fun with it they all forgot there was an audience watching them.

Girls totally won.

By the time everyone reached the hotel room, they were floating on the high of placing in the top ten and performing tomorrow. They also celebrated Mercedes having an opportunity to shine during the Showcase portion of the competition for the top soloists as well.

"It was my idea, guys," Mr. Schue admitted, and looked at Rachel with a worried expression. "So no arguing or harping over my choices until after we get home with our first-place trophy!"

"Unless the argument is who gets Mercedes' autograph first, I don't see what the problem is myself," Artie said with a nonchalant shrug. "And I'm _totally_ getting that autograph first!"

To Mercedes' surprise, an argument over that really _did_ start over that, with Sam and Artie in each other's faces in a way that made her doubt if they were really joking around or not. Someone grasped her wrist and tugged her out the room, blinking in surprise when she saw it was Rachel.

"I'm not in the mood to fight," Mercedes immediately said.

"I don't want to fight," Rachel said, almost somberly. "I want to say I have never been so moved by a performance that wasn't mine than when I heard you sing…that you _always_ move me when you sing, and it's been an honor to share the stage with you, even if I tried to push you off it a few times."

"Literally."

Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes, but conceded the amendment. "_Literally_."

"And I fully expect to be fangirling in front of my television as you and Kurt win Tonys, okay?" Mercedes demanded.

"As long as you let me do the same when you get your Grammys," Rachel negotiated.

"I can work with those terms," Mercedes said, and the two divas hugged.

Rachel left just as Sam arrived to press Mercedes against the wall and kiss her much more gently, yet also more intensely, than he'd done right after her solo performance. She heard people giggle and snicker at them as they passed by in the corridor once Sam pulled away, but she didn't care. Nothing was going to make her ashamed for loving on his froggy lips.

"Tomorrow…after we win our first-place trophy…meet me downstairs in the lobby," he said.

"Why? You know we're gonna hafta celebrate with the group."

"Fine, we celebrate for five minutes, then we skedaddle," Sam renegotiated, curling his hands about her waist.

"Yeah," Mercedes said, smiling when he kissed her temple. "So glad Rachel and Kurt owe me from last year…I want my own 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' moment."

Winning the first-place trophy was everything the New Directions had imagined it to be and more, and no one, not even Lauren, had a dry eye as they accepted their prize. All had sung their hearts out as Mercedes sang lead on "Age of Aquarius", which had then transitioned into _The Wiz_'s "Brand New Day" with her, Artie, Rachel, and Kurt filling in the extra lead slots. Mr. Schue had decided to let them have fun in the parks since they were leaving bright and early the next morning, thus saving the celebrating with family and friends back in Lima. Everyone double-checked the cell-phone tree Rachel had insisted upon and everyone made sure to have a buddy.

Sam immediately grasped Mercedes' hand. "Looks like we won't have to sneak away for our 'Breakfast at Tiffany's," he whispered into her temple, and she grinned, shaking her head imperceptibly.

Except hers would be "Dinner at Epcot", and she thought it was much better. Sam even sang the first verse of "A Whole New World" to her when they entered the World Showcase portion of the theme park and they had dinner in "Norway" in a castle. There were a few Disney Princesses milling about and Sam made sure they got a picture with Cinderella. Mercedes balked a little at the menu prices but Sam gave her his adorable half smile and promised he could take care of everything.

"I don't want you spending too much money on me, though…all of this is amazing. We could have water and bread and I'll be so happy because I'm with you," she promised, reaching across the table to grasp his hand. She'd blame her sappy speech on their surroundings…

Sam kissed the back of her hand and nuzzled it. "_You're_ amazing, and you will always get the full weight of your worth with me, Mercedes, so stop trying to get me to shortchange you."

She wanted to leave _right now_ so she could return the favor in sweaty, naked ways. The plan must've shown on her face because his green eyes crackled and his grin turned wicked, as did his tongue stroking the head line of her palm to make her shudder.

"Behave, lady."

"You love it when I'm naughty," she returned, licking her bottom lip with a quick dart of her tongue that had Sam squeezing her hand harder and immediately calling for the check.

They walked around the rest of the theme park with interlocked fingers, Sam sometimes dropping kisses on her exposed shoulder or the top of her head. When they reached "France" Sam got another tourist to snap a picture of them with Mercedes' cell phone, the breadth of the pavilion behind them.

"You two are super cute," the teenage girl said, one who looked on the brink of high school instead of ending it like they were. Mercedes smiled at the image she'd captured, of Sam's strong arm holding Mercedes close to him about her shoulders, and suddenly became very upset.

She wouldn't have this as easily during the next four years.

Biting her lower lip, she saved the photo as her phone's background; and as soon as she got home, it would be her laptop's background too.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?" she asked, blinking fast to dry the tears that had started to come before looking at him.

Sam stood and shoved his hands in his slacks. He looked so handsome with a coral-green, button-down shirt that matched his eyes and charcoal slacks…she wondered how she got so lucky as to have him in her life.

Sam began pacing, he also biting his lip, and she frowned. "Sam?"

He stopped mid-pace and looked over his shoulder at her. His eyes softened along with his smile. "I just wanted to tell you that you look beautiful." Then he held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

And unlike the first time he'd said these words to her, Mercedes didn't hesitate to take his hand. "I'd love to."

The floral summer dress she wore wisped about her legs as he twirled them about, Sam's arms solid and supportive about her waist. The small ensemble in the pavilion provided the music. She felt the beat of his heart underneath her cheek and sighed with contentment, enjoying the soft breeze swirling about them.

"Happy anniversary, Mercedes."

She frowned. "Happy anniversary?"

He chuckled. "Last year? New York? Was it that unmemorable to you?"

Mercedes gasped and shoved out of his arms, her hands over her mouth. "_Really_?"

Sam laughed outright now, clearly tickled by her faulty memory. "Yeah, really."

"That was all _a year ago_?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Sam said, nodding.

She approached him and framed his face. "A whole year? Sammy? It feels like yesterday sometimes…"

"And then others, a lifetime," he added, but the tone of his voice lost the lightness from earlier. Mercedes shivered, but she wasn't the least bit cold. She wanted to step back, to put some space between them for some reason, but his beautiful green eyes kept her rooted to the spot and made her heart speed up.

"Sam?" she whispered.

"That's what I want with you, Mercedes. A lifetime."

Her throat tightened, preventing any air from entering her lungs because breathing was too loud and she needed to hear _exactly_ what Sam was trying to say.

He took her left hand from his face, the one that now bore the charm bracelet he'd managed to get her for Valentine's Day instead of the watches she usually wore, and kissed the four charms she now had—the last being the "I Love NY" charm he'd wanted to give her during Christmas.

"When we were in New York last year, I remember saying to Finn if I weren't homeless, I'd go for it with the girl I loved. But I couldn't wait until I wasn't homeless…I'd asked you out anyway, because you said you loved my family even though we had nothing but each other. I knew then I couldn't let you get away…"

"You loved me even then?" Mercedes asked on a whisper, feeling the tears starting to well in her eyes.

"Was starting to, yeah," Sam admitted with a lopsided grin. "I have another charm for you," he said softly and Mercedes nodded. He used his free hand to pull out the jewelry box and used his long fingers to pop open the lid. When she saw what was inside, she swayed, unable to deny her tears any longer.

"It's an engagement ring charm with your birthstone in it…peridot…jeweler said we must be destined because it's the same color as my eyes…."

Mercedes managed a laugh at that because he sounded so embarrassed being observed so carefully, but she shook her head, taking the box from him. "I've always said you have beautiful eyes, Sammy."

"Maybe," he mumbled, sliding a hand through his hair while squeezing hers with his other one. "But I'm completely with her about us being destined."

"Are you now?" Mercedes whispered, looking from the charm to his peridot-green eyes.

"Yes." Sam kissed her sweetly, resting his forehead against hers. "And I'd be honored, humbled and honored, if you'd marry me someday, Miss Mercedes Jones."

That he'd asked her to marry him the same way he'd asked her to go out with him that very first time wasn't lost to her, and she stood on her tiptoes to bury her face in his neck. She trembled mightily, and Sam whispered in soothing tones in her ear while rubbing her back.

"Obviously not today," Sam said, his voice firm and confident. "Just…eventually…down the road sometime? I'd really like to be your husband and the father of your children, if you don't mind."

She laughed and kissed the hinge of his jaw underneath his ear. "How could I ever mind that?"

He pulled away with a hopeful smile. "Seriously?"

Though they were still close to each other, Mercedes cupped his cheek and brushed a thumb across his mouth. "Down the road sometime…you ask me again to marry you, Samson Evans."

He grinned. "You bet I will."

Sam took the charm from the box to place it on her bracelet. Mercedes hugged her wrist to her chest and beamed at him, feeling very warm upon his returning smile.

"Is that why you wanted us to stop here in 'France'?"

Sam shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Puck said last year New York was the city of love. I Googled it when we got back home because I'd said it was Paris and I was right. But I can't afford to take you to Paris right now…I hope this Disney version of it is okay, though?"

"My harem helped you with this, didn't they?"

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Mike helped me pick out the charm; Puck printed out the Epcot map and pointed out all the places I should take you; Kurt and Blaine helped me choose the restaurant where we ate; and Finn and Artie told me what song I should sing. Well, more Artie with Finn vigorously nodding his head with approval."

She was already sobbing again; if Artie chose the song…she knew she was going to be a mess after Sam finished singing it.

She was, Tony Terry's "With You" having been her jam since she was four and her father had lip-synced for her and her mother during their Sunday-evening performances. And though she'd decided a long time ago it probably wouldn't be her wedding song, it was perfect for this moment.

Sam wiped away her tears with his thumbs as he finished singing, a soft smile on his face. "Good?"

"The best," Mercedes said, kissing him. "I love you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Miss Mercedes Jones-Someday-Evans…"

The others seemed disappointed they hadn't returned as an officially engaged couple, well, except for Kurt, Quinn, and Puck, who accepted bills from the others as they'd apparently won a bet they'd all made against them.

"Eventually, though!" Mike declared, eyeing the pair with seriousness.

Mercedes met Sam's eyes and smiled. "Eventually, someday, definitely."


	29. Nocturnal Dawning

**Title:** Nocturnal Dawning  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up through _Glee_ S2.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> It was a dark and icy night ready and ripe for a beautiful day.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Yeah, so, hey...'sup? It's been...a _few minutes_ since I was in this universe so please forgive the rust and crust. I tried to keep it as true to the _Then Came You_ universe as possible, especially since there's been MUCH development since I ended this story almost three years ago! Anyway, I hope you all - but especially chorrd, since this is her prompt - enjoy and please forgive any lingering errors!

* * *

><p>A hearty knee to the rib snatched Sam from his blissful, restful sleep, and a loud grunt and moan filled the air.<p>

"Jesus, God, that was…_entirely_…unnecessary…"

Sam pouted and laid his cheek back down, his hand smoothing over the pillow he'd been using, but it shifted out of the way. That was fine with him, because his new pillow was even softer—an old standby from days of yore.

A whimper had Sam frowning even as he snuggled his cheek onto his wife's hip and bottom.

"It's too _hot_ for all of this! Can I breathe? Can I _live_?!"

Now Sam sat up and clicked on the light at his nightstand, a groan answering the move. He leaned over to view his bed partner's face, who was clutching another body pillow with the might of his namesake and scowling quite fiercely, eyes clenched tightly shut. He was really concerned; because just a few hours ago, she'd been frigid—like he was right now.

"Uh—"

"Don't you even _think_ about talking to me right now, Sam Evans! This misery is _all your fault_!"

Sam knew better than to snicker, to even smile, because he was convinced his wife had eyes in the back of her head. Those must sprout when women hit puberty or something, for Stacy Evans had started using hers—for evil—if Stevie (_Steve_) had anything to say about it. But his wife's were another level, because they could see through the headscarves she'd wear to bed. And truthfully, he'd rather be in here with her having interrupted sleep instead of the couch or guestroom and having _no_ sleep for wanting to be with her again. However, he scooted up so he could press a light kiss to a silky-smooth shoulder, then rested his chin upon it.

"Did you get up and turn off the heat?" he asked.

"Yes! It was sweltering in here! I woke up completely soaked—I'm not even surprised you didn't notice. You'd sleep through Armageddon!"

He ignored the crack against his sleeping habits. "And you're still hot?"

"I feel like I'm in hell," she said flatly.

He scooted closer to her, mostly for her comfort and partly for her body heat. "If I turn on the A/C, icicles will start formin'."

"I _swear to God_—!"

"It's already freezin' outside," Sam continued over his wife's growl. "I'm just sayin'."

"I can't sleep!" she cried. "And get away from me, you living, breathing furnace!"

He pulled back with a pout, not liking his wife's discomfort now meant no snuggles for him when earlier she'd been his personal barnacle. "We'll turn into popsicles, I just know it," Sam insisted, shuddering a bit, "but I'll see what I can do."

There was a huff, then a grumble when Sam kissed the bare shoulder again, and Sam grinned, recognizing that as a reprieve from banishment. He scrambled out of bed, re-donning the sleep shirt he'd flung off himself sometime during the night, and hurried out the room to the utility closet a few doors down, where an unplugged fan sat in wait. He brought it into the bedroom and turned it up high, positioning it so it blew directly upon his wife. She sighed, for once without irritation, and he silently fist pumped the air before leaving the room again to gather items for the second part of his plan.

He shivered as he walked through the upstairs hallway despite the fleece thermal undershirt and flannel bottoms he wore, and he thought he _could_ see a sheen of ice on the walls anyway as he made his way downstairs, thus deciding _not _to turn on the air. Of course he'd _never_ tell his beloved that; but if he didn't get her cooled down, he just _knew _they'd be frozen like Bucky and Captain America and they'd wake up seventy years in the future and all of their loved ones would either be dead or suffering from Alzheimer's.

But, maybe by then there'd be flying cars. _That_ would be cool…

He didn't bother turning on the light when he reached the kitchen and started for the cabinet, glad he'd worn socks to bed because the tile was freezing even with the extra wool protecting his soles. So focused on the floor's chill he didn't avoid danger and thus rammed his foot into the rolling stepstool during his approach. He gasped and cursed as quietly as he could, the big toe on his right foot now throbbing in rhythm with his pulse, but he finally loosed the snicker that had been climbing up his throat for the past fifteen minutes.

His wife needed that stool, although he didn't really like it when she used it nowadays.

Sam's muscles stretched and he felt his bones creak as he reached for the top shelf to pull down a mixing bowl. He rinsed it out from habit, then pressed it against the refrigerator's external dispenser for ice. He winced and ducked at how loud the clunking was, waiting for a yell telling him to cut down on the racket, but it never came.

"_Yes_," he cheered under his breath, especially when the mixing bowl became full of long, crescent-shaped frozen water. Once he deemed there was enough, he took the steps two at a time and re-entered the room, but now his wife was sitting up with a fierce scowl on her face and her camisole ruched up to her chest, exposing her stomach. All of her shirts had a tendency to ride up on her; she was an active sleeper on a good night, doubly so when it was bad.

Even though she sat on the side of the bed with her cell phone cradled in her hands, frowning at the time displayed on it, her feet didn't quite make it to the floor because of the bed frame's height. Sam hid his smile in his shoulder as he came closer and sat next to her, not wanting to further irritate her because of it.

But she really was too adorable for words.

"All right?" he asked, taking an ice cube in his hand and rubbing it along her neck and back. This moan was full of pleasure instead of pain, and Sam mentally patted himself on the back.

"I need a coat," she said, leaning her head so her temple rested against his shoulder.

"Oh, are you cold again?" he asked, his other hand palming another ice cube and caressing her belly with it.

"Was that shade?" she asked, lifting up her head a little. "Was that your _ill-timed_ attempt at shade?"

"No!" he promised, kissing the top of her head and gently pressing her back against his shoulder. "I meant it. I want you comfortable."

She snorted at that. "Yeah, well, that won't be happening for a _minute_!"

The last word came as a strangled burst from her lips and her nails dug into his muscled thigh. Sam jumped causing the ice he'd just gathered to dump on the hardwood floor of their bedroom.

"_Jesus_—!"

"_Get the damn coat, Sam_!"

He spurred into action, never really liking it when she got all demon-voice on him, and pulled one of his parkas for her, slipping on an ice cube or two as he went. She looked completely miserable and he helped her into it before trying to get her to lie down again.

"No," she refused, but in her normal voice this time. "No lying down."

"But you're tired—"

"_Exhausted_," she corrected, "but maybe I'll be better if you take me for a drive."

"Okay," he said, letting go of her to pick up the ice and putting it in the bowl. Some of it had already melted and he used his foot to mop up the moisture. He didn't like the feel of wet sock against his feet, but it was better that than his wife slipping and falling.

They'd done this a lot before, although usually he was the one begging her to drive with him. There was something about the stillness of the night, the deserted roads, that calmed his overactive mind, but his wife would never let him stray too far from home. They would stop at a twenty-four–hour fast food joint or diner and order malts or frosties, and they'd sing to the classic rock or old-jams satellite station at the top of their lungs once their bellies were full of cool sweets and enough energy and alertness to get them home. They'd crash in bed together, Sam wrapped around his love's generous form, and he'd wake up to the smell of frying pork and coffee hours later.

Lately, he'd have to take the midnight jaunts alone, but he always made sure to bring back something for her—although her requests had become more eclectic as the months had passed. Sam welcomed this foray into nostalgia, however, but he was super careful about driving since the roads were slick from the freezing rain that had happened earlier.

Salt trucks were already out and about, their flashing orange lights making him squint occasionally. His wife was breathing carefully and grunting and gasping every so often. She'd been sore and achy a lot the last few weeks and he'd do his best to alleviate her discomfort, usually sitting behind her and rubbing her back and shoulders. He liked doing that for her. Any excuse to touch her was always a plus; but easing her distress was something he took great care and pride in doing.

"Are you sure this is helpin'?" he asked as he came to a stoplight, especially when she pitched forward and gripped the arm rest of the passenger's seat. Her breath hissed slowly through her teeth even as she eased back against the seat and nodded tiredly.

He spotted the Wendy's and clicked on the turn signal.

"No."

"Oh, okay," he replied, turning it off and continuing ahead. Sometimes his wife wanted a Slurpee instead of a Frosty, the irony of that not inescapable. She still preferred cherry, too, just as he would always get blueberry.

They stopped at a light, the 7-11 on the left. He made the turn and flipped on his right signal now, but his wife told him to keep going straight.

He frowned, licking his lips mournfully at the Slurpee he was being denied. "Really?"

"Really, really," she said tightly and wiggling in her seat, her face scrunched and her hand bracing her back.

"Okay, is there another restaurant up here I don't know about?"

"Yep," she replied, laughing a little. "Turn left here."

He did so, now completely bewildered because it was a road with not an open restaurant or diner in sight.

"Left."

His frowned deepened as he followed the directive, wondering why they were pulling into the hospital—

He slammed on the brakes, just short of the covered drive. His entire body shook, though not from cold like earlier. A soothing hand touched his face and he turned wide, watery eyes to his wife.

"You're—it's—_we_—!"

"Pull up, baby," she said kindly with a soft smile, her thumb brushing away a tear now trailing his cheek. "We're definitely ready to rock and roll."

He would in a second; but right now, he needed to breathe in his wife, to touch her skin and feel her warmth underneath his fingertips. He'd insisted on a code word or phrase for this moment; and since they'd used "lock and load" for their wedding, he'd deemed "rock and roll" for this.

The birth of their child.

"_Mercedes_."

Sam could do nothing but say her name right then. "I love you" being too many words and he didn't have enough brainpower for it, for the gravity of what was happening left him breathless. His forehead rested against hers and she hummed; but then it turned into a groan that he now understood was more than her regular discomfort, and he broke away with a brush of his nose against hers to drive up to the hospital's entrance.

Sam scrambled out of the driver's side and opened the front passenger's door, helping his love out of the high-sitting SUV. "The bag—!"

"Backseat," she answered, the demon-voice starting to reappear as she gripped his hand so tightly he thought he could hear his bones cracking. Luckily, there were heat lamps to keep the ground from being icy, so her footing was sure when she finally stood. Unfortunately, she immediately cried out and leaned forward, Sam holding her close and shouting like a loon for help.

"Is everything—?"

The nurse stopped in mid question, quickly assessing the situation, and immediately called orderlies for assistance.

Sam quickly parked the SUV while Mercedes checked in and all but flew to the elevators to get to the birthing suite. When he arrived, Mercedes was nesting, taking things out of the overnight bag they'd packed, which included a moving picture frame rotating her middle school choral students' well-wishes that she placed on the one of the end tables.

"Good to see you upright, Sam," Alexis, their midwife, greeted with a smirk.

"Will you ever let it go?" Sam asked even as he approached the older woman with a kiss to the cheek.

"Of course not," Alexis teased, "you're my favorite Future Father Freak-out!"

Sam blushed and shrugged, not embarrassed at all about his quite rational reaction upon seeing his child's sonogram. "The first picture of my kid; I'm allowed to get a little emotional."

"Yes, you are," Alexis agreed, "but I wasn't aware you needed to be wearing a helmet off the field as well."

He scowled playfully, especially at his wife's giggles, but those morphed into sharp gasps and she hunched over.

"How far apart was that?" Alexis asked.

"Eight minutes," Mercedes replied, breathless. "They're getting sharper and lasting longer too."

"Wow, they're that close together?" Sam asked. "I didn't even know she was in labor; she's been surprisingly calm save for a few demon-voices."

"Uh, _what was that_?!"

Sam stepped back and Alexis moved in between them, seeing the impending danger to the father-to-be with his wife's nostrils flaring and deep, yet quick visible breaths.

He wouldn't be surprised if fire came out.

"Well, let's get you changed and we'll have you walk around a bit to stretch you out," Alexis said, tying her shoulder-length locs back at her nape. "Sam, you need scrubs?"

"I—"

"Yeah, I forgot—I'm sorry, babe."

"Scrubs are fine," Sam insisted, and followed one of Alexis's assistants to the bathroom to change.

"Congratulations," the young woman replied.

He gave a dopey smile. "Thanks…"

When assistant closed the door, Sam plopped down on the lid of the toilet and held his head in his hands. It was happening. After a decade of dreaming, wishing, and hoping, the moment had finally arrived. Trembling hands reached into the pocket of the heavy coat he still wore, his fingers grasping his phone. He pulled it out, and dialed a number, willing his heart to slow its cadence.

"Somebody better be dyin' or dead, Evans."

"Or, someone's about to be born," Sam replied, his voice unsteady as he shoved the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

There was complete silence on the line for a moment. "Holy hell!" the voice cried, sounding far more alert than mere moments ago. "Mama's 'bout to be a mama?!"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, bro, yeah."

"Why the fuck you're just callin' me now?!" Puck lambasted. "Zizes—_Lauren_! Mama's 'bout to be a mama!"

"At two in the fuckin' mornin'?" Sam heard Lauren slur in the background. "Of course Sam's kid would have no respect for sleep!"

"Hey! We Evanses love our sleep, Lauren Zizes."

"Then how come you never let ''Cedes do so?" she asked, her voice now clear on the line. "Always trying to 'get it in'—"

"Well he 'got it in'," Puck said on a snicker. "Now it's _comin' out_—"

"Lips first!" Lauren added, and the irreverent couple cackled.

"That baby's gonna be nothin' but _mouth_," Puck predicted. "But we'll be there to see you guys in person, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Could you call folks? I need to get back to Mercedes now."

"Hell, yeah," Puck said, then he laughed. "I can't believe it, bro. Really happy for you, man."

"We'll be there in in the morning!" Lauren added.

"Be careful of the roads, y'all," Sam warned. "A little icy still. Get here safe."

"Thanks! Send Mama our love."

After the call ended, Sam debated whether to call their parents; in the end, he decided to wait until after the baby was here, because both sets could be chatty and he'd miss his own kid's birth because of talking to them. Besides, it was late and both were too far away to risk the drive here—especially for his folks who were in Tennessee. Mercedes' due date had been two weeks from now and they'd planned to come next week to help them prepare. Baby Evans said screw all that—they wanted out _now_. Yeah, he'd catch some hell for not calling them immediately, particularly from Mama Jones, but his wife and child were the priority right now.

He changed quickly into the scrubs and left the bathroom to see Mercedes leaning heavily on Alexis with a slight wince on her face. She was now wearing a lavender gown with light green ties and a new tropical print scarf on her head. When Mercedes spotted him, she waddled to him as fast as she could and snuggled against him.

"Hey, lady," he murmured atop her head.

"Sammy," she replied, her voice tight. "It's happening."

"Yeah." His voice was gruff and he cleared the tears from it. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and hugged his waist tightly. "I'm sorry for my demon-voice," she apologized against his heart. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was in labor, but I needed you to be calm. Both of us can't freak out right now."

"No, it was a good move," he admitted, because he probably would've knocked himself out from all the flailing and panicking he would've done.

Again.

They'd had a dry-run three weeks ago, and he'd called everyone in his excitement and terror, to the point his mother had even purchased a plane ticket and had arrived at Cleveland Hopkins International before she'd gotten the message it'd been a false alarm. Not to mention Sam had been hyperventilated so much he could only get Mercedes into the SUV before he'd fainted in a dead heap—passenger's door still wide open—and knocked his head good on the door's armrest on the way down. It'd ended up being Mercedes tending to her husband instead of the other way around, and Cleveland Browns season tickets to the EMTs who'd arrived to keep that particular embarrassment under wraps.

It'd been then, with Mercedes holding an ice pack to his head while muffling her giggles into his shoulder, that they'd decided only to call Puck and Lauren before alerting the cavalry, since they were the closest in Sandusky. Nevertheless, his wife had obviously made other contingency plans to keep him upright and alert, and Sam was more than grateful for it.

"Puck and Lauren are on their way," Sam told her, and she nodded, though a loud, long groan sounded as well.

"They're getting closer," Alexis noted, and she locked her dark eyes to Sam. "'Cedes, honey, bend forward, okay? Lean on your husband. That's why he's there."

"And I wouldn't be anywhere else," Sam promised, bracing her as she folded completely over so her belly hung directly above the floor.

"The hell you wouldn't be!" Mercedes panted "You were there for the conception and you'll damn well be there for the birth!"

Sam ducked his head to hide the smile that was forming. It hadn't been a special day, just a regular Saturday where she'd woken up before him—as usual—and made breakfast while doing the laundry as well. He'd come downstairs into the kitchen to see her wearing one of his practice football jerseys, the number thirty-one tight across her chest and her panty-clad bottom poking out from the hem. It'd done something to him, seeing her wear his lucky jersey because it was the one she'd always wear, the one that would smell like her even after washing, the one he'd taken with him to Dallas and worn to bed every day for that week unwashed. He'd even worn it under his game uniform, both sporting his lady's birthdate on the chest and back. Her scent had filled his nostrils; her faith in him had given his feet wings. He was so sure he wouldn't have played the game of his life that fateful Sunday in February without it, and the Cleveland Browns wouldn't be World Champions of football for the first time in the franchise's storied history.

He'd had to kiss her then, and then kissing had led to them making Baby Evans against the sink with Pop Jones's cheese grits cooking on the stove and his Grammy's biscuits baking in the wall oven.

Mercedes now sighed heartily, her grip on his hands relaxing. He linked their fingers together and kissed her knuckles, and she managed to give him a weary smile.

"You look beautiful," he told her honestly, and she let out a little burst of a laugh.

"Baby, your definition of beauty is super warped right now!"

"I'm serious," he promised, smiling and stepping back so he could twirl her under his arm. His wife was without makeup and her body seemed to glow with perspiration, leaving her completely natural and stunning to him.

"Well, thank you," Mercedes said, allowing him to pull her back into his arms and begin to dance. She threw an incredulous look at Alexis, who gave them a thumb's up, and he beamed.

"I thought we had a birthing playlist," Sam said, grinning down at his wife. She laughed and nodded.

"I'm ready," Mercedes said to one of the assistants, and soon Black Kids' "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You" filled the room.

They did their level best to relive all the dances and proms from high school, the place where their love was planted and took root. That had been Sam's idea, because this baby had been coming since then, remembering all the talks they'd had of forever and future babies they couldn't wait to spoil and adore. Whenever Mercedes had a contraction, Sam would hold her close and let her cling to him while he did impressions and told jokes in her ear so she'd laugh instead of cry.

When her laughter started coming when he didn't tell a joke, however, Alexis said it was time.

"Sam," Mercedes rasped on a shuddering breath, her eyes wide and her tone laced with fear. Sam framed her face in his large hands and kissed her forehead.

"I'm right here," he said. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

The birthing gown came off and she was completely naked, her large belly protruding from her form. She writhed in agony, clutching at anything she could get her hands around, to brace herself against the pressure and desire to push. She wasn't dilated enough for Alexis's liking, but it seemed Baby Evans didn't give a good goddamn about that.

Impatient—just like Daddy.

"Sam, calm her down," Alexis ordered, and an assistant poured bottled water down Mercedes' throat. "I know she wants to push, but she could do real damage to herself and the baby if she does right now.

Sam nodded, toeing off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed with his wife. She was currently braced against the headboard of the birthing bed, a peanut-shaped exercise ball between her legs. She'd been squeezing it between her thighs with every contraction in an effort not to push, but his love was getting exhausted, and he sheltered her with his body, his hands low on her hips.

"I'm here, lady," he whispered in her ear, massaging her and kissing her shoulder. "I've got you."

"Sammy…"

The distress lacing her voice had his heart freezing, but he smoothed his hands from her belly to her pelvis in long, slow, even strokes. He felt some of the tension leaving her body, and he pressed his chest against her back. She sighed and Sam laced their left-hand fingers together as they gripped the headboard. His right hand continued stroking her.

"God, the shit uterus-bearers go through to have your kids," Mercedes managed to joke once a particularly strong contraction had passed, and he huffed a laugh into her ear.

"You've always been the stronger of us two, darlin'," Sam replied. "You saw how I was the last time I thought it was time."

"Laid the hell out!" Mercedes teased.

"Yeah," he said, laughing once more. "It's like, I was on the verge of gettin' everything I'd ever wanted and I couldn't believe God had blessed me so much. It's overwhelmin'."

She sighed and leaned her head back against him. He cooed, gathering her to him and sitting them upright on their knees. Her body continued to shudder and writhe in his hold, but he whispered praises and encouragements in her ear in different voices to get her to laugh. Sean Connery and Matthew McConaughey got her cracking the most even despite her contractions, but he used his own voice to tell her he loved her and honored her over and over.

"Let's check again," Alexis said, and they helped Mercedes lie on her back so they could measure her dilation.

"You're at eight," Alexis said, "but I want to try to get you to ten before you start pushing."

"Lex!" Mercedes cried. "I don't think me or the baby can wait much longer!"

"Just a little while, 'Cedes," Alexis said, and she looked back at Sam. "Try to keep her mind off the pain as you can?"

Sam nodded, pressing a kiss to Mercedes' temple and an ice cube to her lips, which she took in with her tongue. "I'll do my best."

His wife wanted on her knees again, needing the pressure off her back. The resumed their previous position with him wrapped around her from behind and he stroking her from belly to hip. It seemed no matter what he did this time, it wasn't enough, and her cries ripped at his soul.

"I'm sorry you're in so much pain," he apologized after another strong contraction made her shout. "It is my fault. I never want to hurt you."

"Sam," she replied, kissing his knuckles. "Believe me when I say you gave me _much_ pleasure conceiving this baby of yours."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, guiding his hand to stroke over her belly. "I've been thinkin' about—_oh_—"

She moaned through another contraction and clenched his hand so tightly he had to bite his tongue from crying out along with her. What he was experiencing wasn't even in the same universe as what she was. If he could take her pain away he'd do it in a second.

"What've you been thinkin', lady?" he asked when he felt her relax again.

"I've been trying to focus on how good it felt to get here so I don't…" she trailed off, and her tone colored. "Regret is too strong? But right now? Right now I feel like I don't want this, and I hate that!"

He had no idea what to say, his heart twisting at her guilt-ridden confession. "You're entitled to feel what you feel, honey"

"But does that make me a bad mother?" she asked, terror and dread stark in the question. "That I don't wanna go through this? But I love the baby, Sam—I do—I just wish I didn't have to go _through this_—"

Another contraction stole her words. Sam encouraged her through it, and they both gasped in relief when it ended. An idea popped into his head when he felt her sag against him, and his sweeping hand started going higher and lower. Her skin felt supple and warm, and he could feel his child inside. Soon, they would meet each other. But first, they had to get Mommy dilated.

"About that pleasure," Sam began, smoothing his hand up until it cupped her right breast. Mercedes went completely still, then whipped her head around to glare at him.

"Are you _absolutely serious_ right now?!" she whispered harshly.

He nodded, dropping a kiss to her nose. "Lex said to keep your mind off the pain, right? And you were tryin' to focus on how good it felt to get you here, yeah? I'm just helpin' that along…"

He pinched and twisted her nipple, and a moan that was definitely filled with more arousal than agony escaped her mouth. He kissed the shell of her ear and told her she was a good girl, and her body sagged lower even as he felt it shudder with another contraction.

"Sam!"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmured in the crook of her neck, his right hand sliding below her large belly to the space between her legs. She was hot and sticky with the fluids leaking from her body as she prepared for the birth of their child; yet his fingers found her swollen clitoris, and he gave it a tender caress.

"_I cannot believe_—!"

She gasped when his ring and index finger stretched her vaginal walls open, massaging her in rhythm with his thumb on her nubbin. She pressed her back into his chest and ground her ass into his crotch. He grew hard even though he had no intention of finding his release. This was all about his wife right now.

"Sam…"

"Remember what I said our first time?" he asked, keeping his thrusts slow and shallow, where the edge of pain and pleasure rested for her. She shuddered again and nodded her head against his shoulder, her pants making her breasts rise and fall quite enticingly. "I said you were my earth, full life. And here you are, lady…givin' life to our baby. I'm so grateful for you and so in love with you and so proud of you. And this moment right here should be just as pleasurable as the one that created it, so that what I'm gonna do. Since I can't take your pain away, I'mma give you pleasure. That all right?"

She panted, throwing her hand back to grip his hip hard through another contraction, so he set his teeth into her shoulder and bucked against her in time with a harder thrust into her core.

"_Oh, my God_!"

It didn't escape him this was one of their favorite positions, Mercedes saying she loved how he surrounded her, he loving the leverage he could get while moving inside of her. It reminded him how tiny his wife actually was despite her larger-than-life personality and confidence, how strong she was to brace his weight and take his thrusts as they reached their peaks together. He could touch and stroke her, feel her wiggle and jiggle with the force of his loving; and now, he could absorb the power surging through her as she labored for their child.

"Are you close, lady?"

"Yes! _Yes_!" she cried, turning her head so she could kiss him.

The next shudder felt like a ripple, the kind he was used to when her inner walls clamped around his cock, and fluids gushed into his palm. Those walls squeezed around his fingers, but he felt something entirely new next.

His breath caught in his throat; and when he pulled back from the kiss, Mercedes smiled tenderly at him.

"Rock and roll, dude!"

He grinned and kissed her forehead. "Rock and roll."

Sam turned them around but kept Mercedes cradled in his hold as she spread her legs wide from Alexis to measure her again. She was dilated enough for delivery now, and they both slumped at the great news. An assistant toweled off his hand with his thanks, and then he linked his fingers with Mercedes as she started to push on Alexis's count.

It was the longest, most torturous forty-five minutes of his life. He'd never felt so helpless, not even when forced to sit on the sidelines and watch the offense march down the field to score a winning touchdown as the clock approached zero in the fourth quarter. Mercedes became drained during the delivery, needing to stop several times to gather her strength. Sam tried to will some of his into hers, murmuring a mantra of love and faith into her temple when she'd push with all of her might.

Mercedes roared with her final one, then plopped boneless against his chest. She was incredibly still against him, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. He squeezed her fingers and stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, doing his best to soothe her after such a strenuous experience.

"You did so well," he praised, kissing her shoulder, then her cheek. "You've done so well!"

She nodded, blinking fast as tears spilled down her cheeks. Snuggling her, he kissed them away and told her his love, but she couldn't stop crying.

Especially not when they heard their baby do the same.

"Sam…"

Mercedes outright sobbed now, and even Sam's eyes grew full with the overwhelming feelings swirling inside of him, but he blinked them dry. Alexis stood from her crouch holding one of God's most precious gifts in her arms, the umbilical cord still linking mother and baby together.

"Mercedes? Sam? Meet Baby Evans," Alexis introduced softly, placing the squalling child on Mercedes' bare chest.

Mercedes bent forward, her mouth atop their child's head as she cried. She was too spent to move her arms, so Sam wrapped his around both of them, his hand completely spanning the baby's back.

"Hi, there," he said quietly, his voice rough like sandpaper; but if he cleared it, he'd bawl. "It's Dad, and I believe you already know Mom…"

Mercedes chuckled when the baby made a pant that sounded like an affirmative, now no longer crying, and even Sam smiled.

"I'm sorry you got kicked out of your home for the past nine months," Sam continued, smoothing his hand along the wee back. "Believe me—I know how it feels. But when I got kicked out, your mom was there for me through anything; and she'll be there for you too. So will I. And guess what? It won't take you months to find a new home, either—you're comin' with us! It's bigger than where you just left. Lots of space to move around…no spleens or bladders gettin' in the way…"

Mercedes snorted tiredly. "Sam!"

"It's true!" he insisted, and he beamed as the baby's face burrowed into Mercedes' chest, lips pursing as if looking for something. Mercedes seemed to know, and she guided her nipple to the puckering mouth at her breast.

"That's good," Alexis said, "and don't worry if he can't get a steady suck going, Mercedes. It'll take a few tries."

"'He'?" Sam asked, his heart full to bursting.

"Yes, Sam," Alexis said, smiling gently. "Looks like you have a healthy baby boy."

Mercedes' eyes met his, soft and dewy. "Are you sad he doesn't look like you?"

Sam shook his head, letting gentle fingers caress the baby's soft, ebony curls. Their son was definitely a Jones with his mother's dark skin, button nose, and plump cheeks. His lips weren't overly big, either, and did a little fist pump in his mind.

"I look at him and see you, and that makes me incredibly happy," he replied.

She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. "I love you so much, Samson Evans."

He kissed her forehead. "I love you, too, Mercedes Jones-Evans."

Sam didn't move from behind Mercedes until the baby had finished his first feed and had his first burp. He cut the umbilical cord with one hand holding the scissors and the other holding Mercedes' hand. She cried again when the connection was severed, and he framed her face in his hands and soothed her from the loss.

"I'm being silly, I know," Mercedes self-chastised.

"I don't think so," he rejected, his thumbs stroking her tear-streaked cheeks. "He was inside of you for almost a year, lady. It's another adjustment, that's all."

Alexis approached moments later with a kind smile. "Mercedes? Afterbirth delivery is done and everything looks all right with you so far. We'll need to take the baby and run some tests on him to make sure everything checks out, though, okay? You can grab a shower and something to eat in the meantime, call relatives."

"You mean I have to let him go?" Mercedes asked, pulling their dozing child closer to her chest.

Alexis smiled sympathetically. "Just for a little while. You and Sam will get him right back, I promise."

Mercedes handed their baby over with great reluctance, but she did use the time to take a shower. There was a shower seat in the stall, and it was just large enough for Sam to share the shower with her. He washed her with reverence, then held her when she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his belly. Sam understood her need for contact, to take this quiet moment with just the two of them, because it wouldn't be again for a very, very long time.

"Puck and Lauren should be here by now," Sam said after a moment. "You want me to stall them before they see you?"

"Please?" she asked. "I'm about to fall asleep right on you."

"We can get in bed and get our cuddle on, lady."

"_Mmm_, that's a plan I can get behind…"

She stroked his bare back to his bottom and squeezed, making him yelp and her giggle.

"You just had a baby, woman! This is no time thinking of makin' another one!"

"So says the man who gave me an orgasm while I was in labor!"

He was particularly proud of himself for that. "I just wanted to make sure you had as much fun having the baby as making the baby."

"I did _not_," Mercedes said on a laugh, and he did as well, not offended, "but there was a lot of love involved with both, and that's just as good."

There was a fresh set of scrubs waiting for him while Mercedes put on another gown before being tucked into bed. She was already falling asleep when he kissed her forehead and grabbed his cell phone to check for messages. There were three texts from Puck letting him know he and Lauren had made it and were in the waiting area, and they'd already started the calling tree to their friends letting them know Baby Evans was arriving.

He started to text them back, but he then changed his mind, dialing another number instead. He crouched down to the ground in the hallway, his head in his hands as he waited for the call to pick up.

"Sam! How are you doin', son? It's a little early for you, isn't it?"

"It's…" Sam checked the time on the phone. "Nine-thirty in the morning, Grandpa; why wouldn't I be up?"

"Grandpa?! What do you mea—?!"

There was a sniffle, and it took Sam a moment to realize it'd been from him. He really, _really_, wanted his daddy right then, the man who showed him everything he knew about being a man, a husband, a father. Sam was now those things, too, but he didn't know if he could even do a third of what Dwight Evans had been able to do.

"Son," Dwight cajoled. "It's okay."

"Dad, he's beautiful. Looks just like Mercedes," Sam croaked through his tears, hiccupping with the force of them.

"Oh, thank God," Dwight teased, and Sam laughed.

"She asked if I was okay with him looking like her. Why would I ever not be? She's gorgeous and stunning. I hope all our kids look like her."

"You're already thinkin' of more?" Dwight asked, good-naturedly incredulity in his tone.

"Not _right_ right now," Sam assured his dad on a laugh, "but I want at least a basketball team." Dwight outright chortled.

"You may want to clear that up before you're stuck with the singles tennis you've got now!"

Sam snorted. "My kid may look like her, but he'll be unlucky enough to have our sense of humor."

"Bah! Unlucky! Son, is that how you feel anytime you make my daughter-in-law laugh? _Unlucky_?"

His smile turned genuine and soft, thinking about how he'd made his wife laugh as she brought his son into the world. "I feel blessed."

"There you go!" Dwight affirmed. "I still make your mother laugh; and as long as you do that, you can't go wrong. My grandson will be fine! That Evans humor gets all the foxy ladies, after all!"

Sam grinned, resting his head against the wall. "I love you, Dad. I can't wait for you to meet him."

"I love you, too, Son. What's his name?"

"No name yet," Sam said. "We kicked some around but we wanted to wait until we saw some personality before we decided."

"And how is he?"

"Laidback," Sam said. "Loves his mama—hasn't cried since the midwife patted his baby bottom!"

"Well, Mercedes Jones-Evans is quite easy to love," Dwight insisted. "And so are you. You'll be a great father, Samson."

"If I'm even a smidgen like you and Grappy, I feel good about my chances about that," Sam replied earnestly. He looked up to see Alexis returning with a baby in her arms, and Sam beamed.

"Gotta go, Dad," Sam said. "Baby Evans has returned."

"All right; we should be there tonight—tomorrow at the latest," Dwight said. "Want me to tell Mom about the baby?"

"Please," Sam said, and started cooing when Alexis placed his slumbering son into his arms.

"All right, Sam. I love you. Give mother and baby our love too," Dwight said.

"Love you," Sam returned, ending the call and kissing his son's forehead.

"You've got a gaggle of people in that waiting area for you," Alexis said.

He nodded, opening the door to their suite to see Mercedes was still dead to the world.

"If you want, you can say mother and son are healthy but sleeping, and Dad has to watch over them both."

Alexis smiled and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Of course, congratulations."

"Thanks," he replied, grateful Alexis closed the door behind her. The space was empty save for the Evans family, and Sam climbed into bed, careful not to jostle his precious cargo. Mercedes' eyes peeled open for a moment, and she grinned at Sam, groaning a little when moved to cuddle up next to him. She was back in dreamland as soon as her cheek hit his chest.

Sam followed her there soon after, his greatest loves wrapped in his arms.


End file.
